#there are worse ways to earn a living than folding t-shirts

[brandonxdylan]

#there are worse ways to earn a living than folding t-shirts #not that i would know #beverly hills 90210 #dylan mckay #season 10 #90s #lucy wilson #melissa renee martin

[nelapanela94]

When the stars fall asleep masterlist⭐Part 1 - The Jar of Stars guide⭐< Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 >

3. More stardust in my life.

The wood screeched against the floor, flooding the corridor with that ear-splitting noise, and you earned sullen glares. A vein popped out on your flushed, glossy neck and temple as you hauled your baggage to your designated room. More than a valise, it was an oaken chest, braced with metal straps at the corners, and the front covered in chip-carved stars and a crescent moon.

Panting, you made a strategic pause to sweep away the drops of sweat off your forehead in the least lady-like manner. Just a couple more stops, and you’d make it to half the way.   

You hunched forward, palms resting on your knees.

The door was ajar when you finally reached your dorm. For a second, or less, the girls gazed indifferently at their new roommate, then resumed their activities and tittle-tattles.

You headed straight to the beds near the rear window, which, guessing by their bare mattresses, didn't seem to have an owner yet.

"I get the top one." A girl shouted from the door, startling you, and rushed towards the bunk bed, tossing up her luggage, a leather sack, and swarmed up the ladder.

“Uh?” Bewilderment dabbed your face; you blinked several times, then shrugged. "Okay," you uttered for yourself. The bottom one sounded nice.

You slipped the key chain over your head, kneeled before your ostentatious container, and inserted the key in the padlock. It clicked open, and you flipped the detachable lock off with a swift move of your wrist.

"I'm Eva."

You jolted and looked up, meeting a pair of round chocolate brown eyes, mouth curved into a wide smile. "Y/N." You smiled back. You could only see her face peeking over and her hands gripped at the edge of the bed.

"I didn't mean to startle you." She scratched her head, casting an apologetic smile. "I grew sharing a room with my older sister. I always wanted the top bed."

You shook the head. "I don't mind."

The hefty lid unhinged open with a soft shrill that indicated an urgent oil for the brackets, and you began to unpack on your bed.

The design of the barracks was incredibly plain. The room had simple interiors, with little more than two rows of bunk beds and five-foot-wide closets taking their pride of the place. At least, during the morning, it basked in the sunlight that slanted through the window and offered a nice view to the orchard behind the building.

Four out of the twenty slots were empty.

"I hope the little princess doesn't feel uneasy about sharing a room." You heard from behind and turned around, frowning, meeting a ginger-haired girl with green eyes and freckles, so many freckles daubing all her face. Her hands were resting on her hips. Her gaze coated with disdain.

"Leave her alone, Claire," Eva growled.

Claire folded her arms ever her chest, rolling her eyes. "Great, you found someone to stand up for you." She left her belongings on her bed and walked away, nostrils flaring up, fists hurled down and clenched by her sides.

"Her bark is worse than her bite." The brunette sighed. "We graduated together, North division. Though this is the last place I thought I'd see her. She graduated in the top ten, I bet she’d join the MP."

"Don't worry, I'm used to those things." You spun around and continued folding t-shirts and pants. "South division."

Her eyes bore on your back as you slid the hangers in the gowns, tugging at the sleeves and stacking them on your bed. You granted her time to shoot.

"Hey, uh… why…uh" You gazed up, rising a brow. Eva was scratching her temple and averted her eyes when they stumbled on yours.

“It’s alright, Eva” A chortle seeped out of your lips. "You want to know why I join the Military, don't you?"

"No…well, maybe." She rubbed the back of her neck. "Yes."

You chuckled and lifted a shoulder in half shrug. "I didn't want to live unhappily ever after trapped in an arranged marriage."

"Is that so?"

You nodded. “I’m not going to raise the children of some asshole who can’t make me come.”

“Y/N!” Eva shrieked, her cheeks sizzling pink. All heads turned to you.

You turned your face away, buffering with your arm her attack. You bent and grabbed the cushion and tossed it back to its owner’s bed. A touch of amusement burgeoned at the corners of your lips.

Eva sat down, her legs dangling over the edge of the hard mattress and patted a spot next to her. You climbed up and took a seat, turning to her. She put her hands on your shoulders and leaned in.

"Y/N, I want to be like you when I grow up."

You stared at her, shooting a brow heavenward before bursting into laughter. She laughed too and both flumped back onto the bed, wincing and hissing. Then rubbed your backs. Those mattresses were made of rock.

Something seized your sense of smell. “What do you have in your bag?”

“Oh!” Eva sat up and rummaged into her belongings, pulling out a jute bag. “Cookies, grandma packed them before I took my leave. She owns a bakery in Utopia.” You sat too, and she untied the lace of the container. “Not to brag, but grandma bakes the best cookies.”

“I must check if you’re telling the truth.”

You grabbed one and took a closer look at it. Not too flat, not too thick. Next second, your teeth clamped on it, crumbs fell on your lap, and you brushed them off, making sure they found their way to the floor and not on Eva’s bed. She was indisputably right. The perfect in between of crispiness and chewiness; sweet, but not cloying. They must’ve been sprinkled with coderoin, because you had found a new drug. If you ever happen to visit Utopia, Eva’s grandma’s bakery had to be a mandatory stop in your itinerary.

“Please, tell me you learned to make these.” You had another big bite.

“I worked with her in the summers.”

“Marry me,” you blurted, and hooked your arms around her, blowing raspberries in her hair.

When all the sugar rushed to your head, you descended the ladder.

“I forgot to ask you, what is that jar?” Your eyes drifted in the direction of her svelte finger pointing at the corner of your desk.

“Oh, this?” You grabbed it and unscrewed the lid, tilting it to the side so she could take a glimpse inside. “It’s a jar of stars. Each one each one represents a precious moment in my life. I cut out a star-shape of paper and scrawl on it anything that’d make a good memory.”

“weird.” She crinkled her nose.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Life was always better with friends. They’re like stars that collide with us and make more stardust. Friendship will always shing bright, in times of laughter and in times of sorrow.

*

Next morning, the new cadets gathered in the stables to choose their new loyal companions.

Humans don't choose horses; horses choose their human. That's what Max told you when you were kids, and the information was reliable; he used to play polo at the club. He's always been a horse expert.

You scrunched up your face when you felt a lick on your cheek. And it wasn't sexy.

“Hey.” You brushed its neck with your hand to stop the attack, rubbing off your face. You looked at him closely and smiled. He was the perfect horse for the girl who counted things. The Knabstrupper breed had an unusual range of coat coloration. He was white with dramatic brown spots swarming over him, like a dalmatian.

“You want me as your human?”

He replied with another lick.

“Carrot cake. That’s your name.” You drew out the carrot from your jacket and fed it to him. You had it with you in case your charm didn't attract any horse; a little help wouldn’t hurt anyone.

You combed his mane and tail and brushed the rest of his body. It was a good way to bond and built trust before mounting him. Then you tethered Carrot Cake to a wooden pillar and went in search of a saddle.

Before lifting the saddle on, you position the blanket on the horses back, making sure it was even on both sides, and rubbed off the wrinkles on the fabric.

You looked out into the main courtyard, and for a second, your eyes raveled with his. He was standing with his arms crossed, talking to Miche and Erwin under the shade of a tree. You took a deep breath and concentrated on your task. However, your conscience betrayed you, and your eyes went out in quest of him.

Levi was… well, something in his face was so intense and alluring. The first thing that struck you was his gaze. Those piercing steel gray eyes in which you would certainly be able to see constellations. Then his lips. Juicy. To kiss and to be kissed, and...

He hunted you staring at him.

“Oi!” Your eyes shot open wide as if they’d pop out and fall onto the horse shit. He was coming your way and your legs began to quiver.

“Didn’t they teach you how to saddle a horse?” He asked brusquely and pushed you aside. You could hear your heart drumming loud and clear.

Yes, they did.

“Probably skipped that lesson.” You managed to say as you reached for the hanging girth belt beneath Carrot Cake.

“Tch.”

And at that moment, as he grabbed the strap, his hand brushed yours and the ground quaked, though no one else was disturbed by the sudden natural disaster.

“I’ll check the other side,” you maffled and steered around your new best buddy to hide your scorching red blush from the ravenette.

“Better learn unless you want to become titan’s shit in your first expedition.” He spouted surlier that he expected as he finished fastening the cinch. Once done, he patted your stallion’s neck.

“I thought titans didn’t poo,” you jeered, earning another tch as he stalked off.

When the stars fall asleep masterlist⭐Part 1 - The Jar of Stars guide⭐< Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 >

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi x you #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x y/n #Levi ackerman x reader #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #levi attack on titan #snk levi #levi aot #nela writes #when the stars fall asleep

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Guest Side Story

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Sarah Wilson Rating: T Word Count: 3214

Summary: Sam told Bucky not to flirt with Sarah. But this is her house, so Bucky's pretty sure she makes the rules.

Bucky’s missed white lies. Ones that don’t hurt anybody.

“Is that cigarette smoke I smell on your coat, James Barnes?” “No, Ma. ’Course not.”

“And you’re sure this dame knows it’s my arm she’ll be on?” “Sure, Steve. She’s been after me to fix the two of you up for weeks.”

Stuff like that.

Past few years, Bucky’s either been transparent or a brick wall, all lies or all truth. Which one he loses more sleep over just depended on the day. The most human thing, he’s learning, is to work with a little of both: fact and fiction. Give something here, hold something back there. Lying doesn’t have to be mean-spirited and telling the truth doesn’t have to make him feel hollow and guilty. Maybe you can only realize this kinda thing when you find your way home, even if the home isn’t yours.

Bucky’s standing in the kitchen listening to Cass teach him how to fish. It’s purely theoretical, no gear involved, just the overexaggerated motion of Cass’s arm as he mimes casting. Laughing, Bucky lightly grabs the boy’s elbow before it can collide with the refrigerator on an especially big swing. Cass downsizes his demonstration without pausing the excited flow of his instructions.

AJ catches Bucky’s eye; from the look on his face, he’s beginning to suspect that Bucky might already know how to fish. While Cass is focused hard on his hands pretending to show how to fit live bait onto a hook, Bucky smiles at AJ over the smaller boy’s head and raises a finger to his lips. White lies. Let Cass believe he’s the expert.

When Cass is winding down, Bucky moves around him with a grin, carrying an empty plate to the sink.

“I got it!” AJ declares, whisking it from Bucky’s hand and pumping a squirt of dish soap in the center while his other hand runs the hot water.

Cass slotted the Pop-Tarts the plate lately held into the toaster for him (no better end-of-the-day snack, Bucky was told) and now AJ’s cleaning up. They’re a hospitable family, all day long. No phoniness, no insincere offers of help that they’re hoping Bucky won’t take them up on. He actually had to race the kids to the shed to store a toolbox earlier. On the boat, Bucky has room to put in the effort for the Wilsons, but inside the walls of their home he’s not allowed to do a damn thing because he’s a guest. Per square foot of property, he doesn’t think he’s ever been treated this well in someone else’s house.

“Fine,” Bucky concedes, “but I’m doing all the dishes tomorrow—breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And don’t get up early to drink a glass of orange juice and try to wash it before I’m awake, ’cause I’ll be listening.”

The boys giggle and Bucky leans against the counter, hovering while AJ hands the plate off for Cass to wipe dry and pretending not to listen to Sam and Sarah talking in the next room.

…But there isn’t a full wall separating the kitchen from the living room and Sam knows Bucky’s hearing’s good, right? He doesn’t think they’re discussing anything that private and if Sam’s annoyed with him later for what he supposes Bucky might’ve heard, Bucky’ll just offer up another white lie and swear he couldn’t hear a thing. And Sarah… Sarah wouldn’t think any worse of him if she knew. Bucky imagines she’d have a lot of compassion for his frequent urge to give Sam a hard time just for the hell of it. He flicks a quick glance over his shoulder, just to see her, and concentrates on what they’re saying, giving himself vague permission because he overheard his name.

“This was your idea,” Sarah’s saying. “You brought the stray cat home, just like when we were kids.”

“Don’t compare him to something cute,” Sam complains. Bucky’s mouth tenses to keep his smile from spreading too far.

“He is a guest in my home, Sam, and he’s more than earned it after the work he’s been putting in with the boat.”

“And what about the work you’ve been putting in watching him do that work?”

“Sam. Grow up.” Sarah’s voice is playful and Bucky almost turns, wondering what her expression looks like.

“So you’ve just been appreciating his skill with a wrench and some sandpaper,” Sam says skeptically.

“If I’m also appreciating his shoulders in that shirt— if—” she emphasizes when Sam tries to interrupt, “—it’s nobody’s business but mine.”

“Ok, you definitely can’t have him sleeping on the couch.”

“What do you think I’m gonna do? Try to sneak him to my bedroom after lights out? With you listening, trying to catch us? Uh uh. Your sister is a grown woman with two children, a home, and a boat she couldn’t manage to sell, and she can lust where she damn well pleases.”

Bucky snorts out a laugh and AJ gives him a funny look. Kid’s too perceptive.

“He’s tricky,” Sam lectures. “You can’t see it, but I do. I’ve been around him a hell of a lot more. You think he smiles like that at everybody? If he smiles at me at all, I gotta assume he just looked up and saw a meteor hurtling towards where we’re standing and is only smiling because we’ve got seconds to live and I won’t be able to tell anybody.”

“You are hilarious.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re telling me your friend is charming. That’s what you’re describing. Don’t I deserve to be charmed? Where else is he gonna sleep, huh? With you? In one of the boys’ little beds while they share the other one? Because I know you’re not suggesting we skip the pretense and put him right in with me.”

Sam lets out a noise of obvious frustration.

“Time to intervene,” Bucky tells Cass and AJ, leaving them to swap confused shrugs in the kitchen as he saunters into the living room.

“Hey,” Sam greets stonily, arms crossed over his chest.

Just for fun, Bucky decides to be all the friendlier.

“It’s so great of you to put me up. Thanks, Sarah. This beats a hotel by a mile.”

“Our gourmet kitchen does offer an impressive range of sugary cereal,” she jokes. “I might even cook you boys a special breakfast tomorrow before you head back to the dock.”

Bucky’s grin widens.

“Oh yeah? I wouldn’t wanna—”

“No, it’s no trouble—”

“Well, that would be—”

“Both of you stop it,” Sam orders.

“Sam, go outside,” Sarah orders right back. “Play some tag with your nephews.”

“Sarah, I’m beat. We’ve been working on that boat all day.”

“Mhmm, you and the rest of the neighbourhood. You worked all day and you come home and there’s still two kids to entertain. But guess what?” She smiles deviously at her brother and throws a few fake punches at his stomach. “You’re Sam Wilson, the Falcon! Looks like you’re special after all. Me and Bucky here know you’ve still got some gas in the tank. Go on.”

Sam looks fairly planted to the spot as he glares from his sister to Bucky, but he eventually moves with a lurching step.

“I’m gonna be right outside,” he warns.

Bucky sidesteps out of his path and says nothing, though it’s hard to resist the instinct to egg him on.

“We’re gonna have a super-secret discussion about which towels he can use,” Sarah goads at her brother’s back.

Sam ignores her, corralling his nephews in the kitchen and guiding them out the door into the fading daylight with a hand on each of their narrow backs.

“Great kids,” Bucky observes.

Sarah nods, watching her family disappear, then turns to him.

“We’re not really gonna talk about towels.”

“No?”

Bucky’s eyebrows rise in surprise and delighted anticipation until Sarah grabs a folded blanket off the back of the couch and passes it to him.

“We’re making up the couch.”

“Oh.”

This is ok too. Actually, really nice, standing next to Sarah and unfolding the blanket as she stuffs a pillow into a clean case. Her eyes find his already on her and he swears he almost blushes; he’s been smoothing out the same crease in this blanket for a good thirty seconds with no result, just watching her easy movements, the way she flips her braids back when they fall forward over her shoulder.

“I hope you’re comfortable,” she says, lingering once they’re done.

“I woulda slept on the floor. A closet, even, like Harry Potter.”

“You read Harry Potter? Don’t tell the boys—they’ll be bugging you to play wizards with them.”

Bucky laughs and shakes his head.

“Nah, I just watched the movie.”

“Which one?”

“There’s more than one?”

“You really better not bring it up then,” Sarah advises. “They’d try to tell you everything at once.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to get in out of my depth.”

It feels like a significant look they exchange after his words. Bucky wants it to be—he thinks he does—but he feels awkward, romantically clumsy. Heartstrings tied together like shoelaces, waiting to trip him up. He’s been telling himself she’s only being kind, but after eavesdropping on her conversation with Sam, he knows she’s interested. In his shoulders at the very minimum. Was that right? His shoulders? Just in case, Bucky does his best to square them. Can’t hurt.

He’s fucking ecstatic when Sarah does glance down briefly, her gaze returning to his face with something flustered in it. Sure, she’s a mom and she runs a business, but it’s like she told Sam: she deserves to be charmed. Bucky’s not entirely sure he’s doing it right though.

“So,” she says, “Sam was just being a pain when he tried to convince me you can’t sleep on the couch because you’ve got a bad back, right?”

Bucky sighs but keeps smiling. It’s natural in her presence.

“I’d say that’s him making old-man jokes about me.”

“I apologize for my brother and his bad manners.”

“Ah, he’s not totally wrong,” he concedes, perching on the arm of the couch. “These last few birthdays have required more candles than you could fit on a cake.”

“Then you just have to get yourself a bigger cake.”

Bucky laughs.

“I guess optimism’s pretty much a family trait?”

“We work at it. They say you need to take the good with the bad, but they don’t tell you that means creating the good out of nothing a lot of the time, if you want any at all. The Wilsons worked that out some time ago, so we mostly do alright.”

“It’s a good feeling to be around,” he tells Sarah earnestly. Clearing his throat, he gets to his feet. “Feels good, being around you.”

“We’re… I’m happy you could stay with us.”

The light’s softened in the room and her voice has gone with it. Bucky shifts on his feet.

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” he assures her.

Sarah’s eyelashes flutter when she looks from his mouth to his eyes. Probably too try-hard to bite his lip now. God, Sam thinks Bucky’s so suave with Sarah, but it feels like he’s only got one move and it’s fucking smiling. Some Casanova he is. Sarah, meanwhile, is beautiful and authoritative and generous and moving closer to toss the pillow he’ll rest his head on tonight onto the couch.

“Anything else you need to be comfortable?” she asks, gaze slipping from one of his eyes to the other. “Another pillow? Pajamas?”

“I’ve got some, but…”

“But?”

Sarah gives him a questioning look and Bucky starts summoning the courage to make a move. He’ll touch her waist—no, take her hand. He’ll cup her sweet face so there’s no doubt what he means.

“But,” he picks up, “if I get cold in the night…”

There’s longing in her eyes, Bucky knows it, but Sam bangs in the screen door right then, one nephew squealing where he’s been slung over Sam’s shoulder.

“Well,” Sam announces loudly to the house at large, “that’s it! No more gas in the tank! Everybody get to bed!”

Sarah appears sorry as she steps back. Bucky almost reaches out to pull her in, to take another shot with another lousy line. Shit, he’s bad at this.

“There are more blankets in the hall closet,” she says, and slips away.

“Thank you,” he calls after her.

Sam walks past, Cass still dangling upside-down over his back while AJ runs ahead, and watches Bucky like a hawk (or some other bird of prey) as he digs through his overnight bag. What’s Sam expecting him to pull out? A strip of condoms? Bucky extracts a green toothbrush and holds it up with an expression of fake wonder. Sam rolls his eyes and heads off down the hall.

They are going to bed early, barely 9pm. That’s probably late for the kids though. Bucky’s pleasantly weary after a day outdoors, more working than talking, feeling like part of something as the Wilsons’ community came together to repair the boat. Seeing Sarah throughout. Flashing Bucky a smile while she spoke to a neighbour, grasping his outstretched hand to let him help her aboard so she could see their progress, checking Sam’s work like she’s his foreman while Bucky grinned and watched the siblings good-naturedly pick at each other. Sam was probably out like a light and Bucky should be too.

He’s not.

He can’t get to sleep right away, but it’s peaceful to lie here on the couch, on his back, while the house gets dark and darker. Sarah left the nearest window cracked for him and a gentle breeze washes in with the chirp of insects. Bucky’s already looking forward to being woken by the sun streaming through in the morning. It’d be good to get from now to daylight in a single stretch of sleep; that’s what he fantasizes about while he lies on his back: no nightmares. His head’s propped up by the pillow he tells himself smells like Sarah, though it probably just smells like her laundry soap.

It’s hard to put his finger on what’s missing, why he can’t fall asleep, until he hears the soft shuffle of footsteps on carpet. They’re too close together to be Sam’s—either hesitant or made by child-sized feet. Bucky cranes his neck around, expecting to see someone walk past on their way to the kitchen for a glass of water. His gaze roams over nothing for a minute, then he slumps back as the footsteps retreat. Maybe it was Sam after all, getting up to look in on his nephews or something. It’s the sorta thing Bucky would do if he were an uncle; he’d treasure the time with those kids, try to remember everything about his visit so he could hang on to it when he found himself half a world away, in Berlin or Riga or Madripoor.

He’s settling, trapping the blanket against his chest with a heavy hand, when he hears the footsteps approach again. Then back away seconds later. Slowly, Bucky starts to smile to himself. It’s Sarah. Can only be her. She’s either trying to psych herself up to come in here and talk to him and failing, or trying to resist venturing down the hall and succeeding.

On her next attempt, she gets closer, and Bucky sits up, kicking the blanket aside, and drops his feet to the floor in anticipation of her rounding the corner. He’s nervously gripping the couch cushion on either side of his knees when she does.

“You sneaking past Sam?” he asks quietly.

Sarah jumps, pressing a hand to her chest.

“You scared me. I wasn’t sure you’d be awake.”

Bucky shrugs, dreamily fixated on her smile. One of her neighbours turns on their porchlight and now Sarah can probably see his smile too.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says.

“Shoot. Did you need something else?”

Kinda funny how she’s pretending she was coming out here for another reason and is just making a detour for him. He knows better, but he’s got enough remnants of being a gentleman not to call her out on it.

“Nah. It’s nothing to do with you.” Bucky stares at her a few seconds and changes his mind. “You know what? Actually, it is you.”

“What is?” Sarah asks with a hushed, confused laugh.

“The reason I can’t get to sleep. Sarah…”

But she smiles and does what he did to the boys earlier—holds a finger to her lips.

With the confidence of a woman at ease in her own home and her own body, she steps forward. She wore a yellow t-shirt today, but the one she wears now is pale pink. It’s loose and worn and reveals the strong, elegant curve of her shoulder when she moves and it slips. Gazing up at her, Bucky shifts until he feels the back of the couch. His hands hover in the air as Sarah digs one knee, then the other, into the cushion on either side of him. She lowers herself onto his thighs.

Moving slow like the hour, deep like the black sky, Bucky runs his hands up her back.

Sarah’s palms land on his shoulders and, smiling, she confesses to him, “I like these.”

He’s smirking when she ducks her head to kiss him.

Now that he has her here—on his lap, in his arms—Bucky forgets every way he wanted to touch her earlier. How he was gonna woo her with tender contact applied just right. Well, thank god for Sarah. She sets the pace of the kiss and, when his hands go still at her upper back, reaches around to bring one of them back down to her waist. He can feel that there’s no bra beneath her shirt.

“Rusty,” he breathes when their mouths slide apart.

“You were on that old boat all day,” she reminds him. “You know I’ve got patience for rusty.”

Still, Bucky wants to do a little better, prove that maybe he’s what she had in mind when she decided he was worth smiling at. He cradles Sarah closer, pulling her in, dipping his fingers into the valley of her spine when she arches into him. They kiss firmer, then faster. At her quick nod of encouragement, he moves his hands to her hips. Lower.

“Sarah?” Sam slurs sleepily from down the hall. “You outta bed?”

Sarah presses a hand to Bucky’s chest and pushes off his lap, other hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter. He chuckles too.

“As the Falcon, timing is one of his greatest strengths.”

“And as his sister,” Sarah counters, “it gets on my last nerve.”

“Well, I didn’t wanna say that, but…” Bucky grins.

“Sarah?” Sam calls out again.

She sighs.

“Is he trying to wake the boys?” She takes a step away from the couch, wearing a regretful smile. “I better go.”

Bucky catches himself before he can blurt out I’ll miss you. Overeager fool.

“See you in the morning?” Sarah checks, something shy about her now, but not in a bad way. Cautiously hopeful, Bucky thinks. He’s been feeling that way himself.

He gives her one more smile for the road.

“You bet.”

#my writing #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #Bucky Barnes #bucky x sarah #Sarah Wilson

[bruhstories]

Flowers and Vinyls

Summary: You and Porco are neighbours. You also despise each other. Pairing: Porco Galliard x Fem!Reader (modern AU) Warnings & Content: language, softdom!Porco, softsub!Reader, thigh riding, unprotected sex, spanking, oral sex (male receiving), alcohol abuse, enemies to lovers Word Count: 2.2 k

A/N: Porco deserves some love, too! I also really wanna give Connie some love, too.

You hated him, you loathed him.

To you, Porco was the most insufferable person to ever walk on this earth, strutting his pushed back hair, with his stupid undercut and his silly little upturned nose. You wanted to gouge his eyes out, but that would only land you some time in jail. He was your next-door neighbour both in terms of accommodation, and in terms of work. You owned a small flower shop at the ground floor of your townhouse, he owned a record store placed strategically wall-to-wall with yours — naturally he lived above it. Marcel, Porco's brother, was seemingly a nicer person, but he wasn't always there when you needed him to shut his little brother's mouth — or music. Not only were you two bickering like petty children, you were also complete opposites — he was edgy and brash, you were dainty and solemn. He always wore dark colours, you were dressed in pastels. And to make matters worse, he was best friends with your best friend!

Pieck was completely oblivious to the fact that you two hated each other, both bitching to her, unaware of the other's complaints. She always told you, separately, that perhaps you just need to get laid with one another and get over it. Impossible, for you despised each other. And when Pieck invited you to a small party at her place, you were not expecting to see Porco there. At first, you wanted to turn around and leave, but your friend talked you into staying, promising that Porco was actually a good guy, and that you didn't know him well enough. Oh, how wrong she was. He was evil incarnate, he vandalised your shop after you called the cops on him. Nonetheless, you stayed at her party, opting to spend some time with Reiner and Colt, avoiding Porco at all costs, because if looks could kill, his would smite you.

What you didn't know was that a conflict was taking place inside his tipsy brain — should he kill you or fuck you? Despite your differences, Porco couldn't deny that you were a very alluring woman, hips swaying every time you walked and an ass that could raise the dead. And he saw Colt glancing at that ass, prompting him to drink some more. On the other side of the room, you told Pieck all about how your date stood you up and you were quite sad, opting to drown the empty feeling in your chest with cheap vodka and tequila, and that combination did a number on you. You weren't shitfaced by any means, just drunk enough to feel the music better, taste the liquor better, smell Porco's perfume better whenever he walked past you. God, he intoxicated you more than the alcohol could, and you were beginning to wonder if Pieck was right — maybe you didn't hate him, maybe you needed to fuck him, relieve the sexual tension. But how? What if he did hate you and you'd only make a fool of yourself? The questions were grinding your gears and no amount of tequila could help you get them out of your system. You settled on ignoring them.

"We're gonna split a cab." Porco explained, a bored, inexpensive look on his face.

"Hey, 'm not poor, aight? I can afford a f-fuckin' taxi." You poked his chest with your index finger while losing your balance and falling into his arms. He quickly released you once you regained control of your legs, his eyes drifting elsewhere, crimson creeping to his cheeks.

"We literally live next to each other, but if you wanna go all by yourself, fine!"

"I haaaaate you, Pokko, d'you know? I especially hate that cute nose! Boop!"

He was so done with your attitude, your gestures, your voice, his brows furrowed and lips pursed. But Pieck really wanted to make sure you got home safe, and Porco didn't want to disappoint his friend by letting you loose in a stranger's car, especially since you were drunk and vulnerable. He was an asshole, but he wasn't that bad. Not that you could realise that, anyway.

"Just get in the car, Y/N." He rolled his eyes and opened the door once the yellow taxi pulled over. You stopped between him and the car, nose and cheeks pink from the alcohol, and leaned closer to his face.

"D'you also know I really, really wanna ride you?" You whispered in his ear before stumbling inside the cab, giggling like a schoolgirl. "Ah! Evening, mister!"

"Jesus Christ..."

The entire way home you drove Porco insane with little touches, whispers, obscene proposals. He could feel his cock twitching in his pants but he didn't want to take advantage of you. Yet the more you looked at him with hunger in your eyes, the more he couldn't think rationally — he, too, was drunk, after all. When you got out of the car you almost fell face first, but luckily, he caught you, your hand accidentally brushing his thigh in the process. God, he hated you.

"Come inside!" You looped an arm around his neck for better balance. "I gotta give you your money b-back."

"It's fine."

"No, no, I insist."

"You're so annoying, you know that?" Porco walked with you, perfectly aware of how much he'd regret this night.

"Close the door behind youuuu!" You kicked your shoes off and grabbed the collar of his leather jacket, practically dragging him through the hallway, into the living room. "Sit!"

He could say no. He could just walk out. But he didn't want to. Not anymore.

You rummaged through a drawer looking for some cash, taking your sweet time to do it. The way you were bent over, the tight skirt revealing just an inch of your red panties, sent Porco down a rabbit hole of dirty thoughts. Every gesture, every word uttered so nonchalantly by you made you both forget the turf war you both started, the atmosphere slowly becoming more intimate and sensual. You swayed your hips from side to side, opening another drawer and digging through the clutter.

"Hey, Pokko? Do you think 'm pretty?"

The question caught him off guard as you turned around, no money in your hands. He raised his gaze from your skirt to your eyes, frantically nodding his head.

"Yeah."

"Then why did I get stood up?" You pouted, walking to the couch. Porco swallowed hard when you took a seat on his thigh, his fingers digging into the sofa. "If 'm pretty, why don't men want me?" Your hands rested on his shoulders as your hips slowly rocked back and forth.

"I- I don't know." He pursed his lips, unaware of what to do. Usually, he wouldn't have any issues with situations like this. But it was different this time because he really wanted to shut your srupid mouth up — or maybe Pieck was right and all he needed to do was fuck you.

"Do you want me?" You asked, head tilted, movement stopping.

"God, yes." Porco grabbed your nape and pulled you into a sloppy kiss, his other hand desperately tugging at your tank top strap. You could feel your panties dampening under his rough touch and hot kiss, your hands removing his jacket as quickly as possible. "I'm gonna fuck you on that table first." He picked you up and slammed your ass on the dining table, earning a moan out of you. "Then we'll take it to the bedroom." Porco removed his shirt while you pulled your underwear down.

"Fuck me wherever you want, just fuck me!" You begged, legs spread and lust in your eyes.

"Shit, I knew you were a little slut under all that soft girl crap." He unzipped his jeans, letting them fall to the ground while he pulled his cock out. You took a good look at it, teeth digging into your lower lip.

"Aren't you gonna finger me first?"

"You didn't do anything to deserve it. But I'm in a good mood." Porco sneered before he spat on your wet cunt. The disgusting gesture made you purr like a kitten, proving him more that you were indeed a filthy whore. He dragged the tip of his cock up and down your slit, slowly pushing it between your folds as you threw your head back in pleasure. "Fuuuck, you're so tight, so wet."

"Oh my God, go deeper! Please!" You pleaded, voice low and seductive.

"Look how good you're taking it." Porco praised you, fingers digging into your skin before he started rocking his hips. It truly felt that your pussy was made just for him, the silken walls clenching around his hard cock making him grunt with every thrust. Your legs wrapped around his waist and you both realised just how much you needed this, the hate you had for each other melting away, replaced by lust and desire.

"So b-big 'nd hard-" You mumbled incoherent words while one hand found your neck, calloused fingertips squeezing the skin.

"You've no idea how much I wanted these hands around your neck." Porco groaned, his thrusts faster and harder. "Who knew I wanted to fuck you, not kill you?" His thumb parted your lips and you hollowed your cheeks around it, sucking on it like a lollipop. "Good girl. Bedroom, now." He pulled out and you almost cried at the empty feeling between your thighs. You took his hand in yours and guided him to the room — just as pastel and cute as your personality. Porco spun you around, giving your ass a firm slap before bending you down. He pressed hot kisses on your hip and lower back and you threw your head back to look at him.

"Stop t-teasing me!"

"Jeez, aren't you greedy? I thought you hated me." He laughed into your skin, the vibrations tickling your flesh. Porco couldn't abstain any longer, one hand grasping your hip, the other pushing his cock back into you. Inch by inch, it disappeared and he let out a satisfied groan.

"I still h-hate you!" Teeth sunk into your lip to stifle a moan.

"Oh, really?" He thrusted so deep that you lost control over your arms, head falling onto the mattress. Another deep thrust and you shot back up with a growl. "Talk shit and I might not let you finish." His threat alerted you and you bucked your hips, walls clenching around his cock.

"It would be a shame if you f-finished first." Your voice was cocky, targeting that huge ego of his. It was effective — Porco's hand travelled between your legs, fingers rubbing your swollen clit and you moaned in extasy, adrenaline rushing through your veins.

"N-not fair!" You squirmed and whimpered, tears of pleasure pooling at your eyes.

"We're not playing fair." He wrapped his other hand around your neck to pull you closer, back hitting his chest. The room smelled of sex and jasmine incense and it drove you mad with lust. "Oh, what's the matter? Are you coming already?" He mocked while fucking your desperate cunt.

"Yes! God, yes!" You cried out, the climax blurring your vision.

Despite your pleas that you couldn't take it anymore, Porco kept thrusting deeper into your numbing pussy, his fingers bruising your skin, his teeth sinking into your shoulder. He was an animal, everything about him was instinctual and filthy and you hatedloved it. Your silken walls clenched around his cock again, and he was impressed that you still had some fight left in you.

"That's right, milk me dry, you dirty whore." His disgusting words reignited the dying fire inside your core and you bucked your hips against his, the friction and pressure making you come undone a second time.

"Fuck!" Was all you could say before collapsing onto the mattress, body limp and exhausted.

"Damn it, Y/N. I said milk me dry." Porco grabbed a fistful of hair and turned you over, yanking your head back to shove his cock down your throat. How on earth did he have so much stamina? You hollowed your cheeks and triedto suck, but it was him actually fucking your pretty mouth. "Are you gonna keep being a little bitch?"

"Nu-uh!" You shook your head, the word muffled by his girth. Your cheeks were burning from the lack of air, your eyes watery and red.

"Good." He groaned, thick, hot strings of his seed shooting down your throat. "Swallow." Porco held your head back as he slowly pulled out, the bitter taste lingering on your tongue.

You laid on the bed and pulled him next to you, unaware of what to do or say. Your body relaxed when he looped an arm around your shoulders, your head resting on his chest.

"Do you still hate me?" He asked.

"It depends. Are you gonna blast music at three in the morning?"

"Yep."

"Well, there's your answer." You laughed and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Listen, I'm not sorry you got stood up tonight. I mean, I am, but I'm not-"

"Porco, stop talking. It was never going to work out with him, anyway."

"Fair enough." He shrugged, lips pursed and eyes narrowed. "What if I take you out?"

"Like a date, or a murder?"

"It depends. Are you gonna call the cops on me again?"

"I'll try not to?"

"A date, then."

#porco galliard #porco x reader #porco galliard x reader #aot #aot x reader #aot smut #attack on titan #porco galliard smut #snk #snk x reader #snk smut #shingeki no kyoujin #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan smut #shingeki no kyoujin smut #porco galliard one shot

[pixieungerstories]

Quarantine -3

It would have been nice to have something other than the word of a shadow to go on.  I stared at the ceiling.  I wished I had a cat or a dog or - hell - a pet hamster.  Some other living thing in the house.  I had no idea what Nick was but I wasn’t entirely sure he counted as a living thing.

“Humans who don’t sleep start to hallucinate,”  I muttered to myself.  Maybe if I actually got some shut eye, I would wake up and this would all be a dream.  “Fuck it.”  I got undressed and crawled under the covers.  I settled under the covers, then realized I was facing the closet, so I rolled over.  Having the door in my blind spot wasn’t necessarily better.

“Nick?”  I wasn’t really expecting an answer.  “Can you move the bed to another room?”

“I can.  I don’t want to.  I like having you where I can see you.”

I nodded.  “I’ll go sit in the kitchen until dawn.”

“Go! To! Sleep!”

I jumped then started to shake.  “Yelling at me isn’t going to help me sleep,” I muttered.

The bedroom door slammed shut.  Rattling the door knob and pulling as hard as I could didn’t make it budge.  “Please don’t do this,” I whimpered, then I screamed as something brushed my face.

The door opened suddenly enough that I unbalanced and fell on my ass, but a moment later I was running down the stairs and out the front door.  I was at the gate before I knew what I was doing.

The cops were still right there.

“You need to go back inside ma’am!” the closest one called.  After that they were all looking at me.  

I paced for a moment, uncomfortably aware how odd I was behaving.  I needed to get out of here.  I needed a smoke.  I needed to stop acting weird before they decided I had killed my neighbours.

Oh god.  I was trapped in a house with a creature that probably killed the looters.

I didn’t want to face the idea that Nick was a killer.

“Ma’am!  Go inside!”

“I saw what happened on the news,” I explained.  “It’s giving me nightmares and I’ve been stuck in that house for more than a month.  I wasn’t expecting to be quarantined in a construction site.”

“Be that as it may, you need to go back inside,” the patrolman called.

“I’m more than six feet away from you.  Can’t I just stay out here near some other people and the street lights? Please?”

“You aren’t exactly dressed for the weather,” he pointed out.  

I crossed my arms over my chest as I realized I was standing on my lawn in my night dress.  I should go in and at least get my robe.  It was in the room with Nick’s closet.

I thought about just confessing to something so that I could go with them.  Prison wouldn’t have Nick.  Maybe I just needed a hospital.  No.  That was a death sentence these days.

He was driving me off.  He had flat out told me that he was good at that.

“Are you alright, ma’am?”

“No!” I snapped.  “I’m scared.”

He gave me a pitying look but still insisted, “You need to go inside now.  You will be safe in your house.”

I snorted, and swatted at the bugs that had found me.

“Go inside,” he said gently.  “The last thing you need is to catch something from the mosquitos.”

I nodded slowly and headed back in to sit in the kitchen.  Maybe he would let me make a pot of coffee.  When I got inside the lights in the kitchen was on and the bed was set up on the main floor.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“You’re welcome.  This is temporary.  You will sleep upstairs when the walls are repaired.

The next morning I got a phone call ordering me out into the garden as a forklift delivered a load of drywall.  It was left in the middle of the floor next to my bed.  I looked at it.   Nick’s voice was too close to my ear, “Someone will come hang in tomorrow.”

“How did you pay for this?”

“You have an excellent credit rating and you aren’t spending much of your money.”

“Great.  Did they say how long it would take?”

There was no answer to that.

“I guess drywallers wear masks all the time anyway,”  I mused.   “At least there will be some other people around.”

“Yes.”

I didn’t have walls the next day.  In fact things were worse as the last of the lath and plaster was taken down.  They found hundreds of razor blades in the wall in the bathroom.  The construction guys assured me that it was normal to find all kinds of weird things in the walls of old houses, but they still looked uncomfortable that it was razor blades and that some of them were more bloody than you would expect from a mere shaving accident.  I spent the night picking them up with tweezers and dropping them into a jar for safe disposal.  Nick didn’t say a word and the lights stayed on that night.

One half the team turned up the next day.  No one commented on why that was.

I ordered a hammock and a grill for the backyard.  I got the hammock but someone had changed the grill to a chiminea when I wasn’t looking.  It was nice, but I couldn’t cook on it.  My order had also been edited to include a bunch of bug repellant candles and some sunscreen.  I tried to figure out if that was something a shadow creature would actually do or was this another sign that I was losing my mind.

Either way, I worked on the concrete table out back at the very limit of the wifi during the day and concentrated on fixing up the yard after official work hours.

One of the drywallers sold me a patio umbrella.

I also got the lecture that just because the walls were up didn’t mean that it was safe to use the shower.  

“You still have to get a membrane installed and your tiles up and sealed,” the guy explained.

I nodded, “You don’t happen to know a tile guy that is still working?”

He frowned, “I’ll ask around.  Do you have tiles yet?”

“No,” I admitted.

“That might be the hard part.  You can still find a few guys willing to come out, but all the factories are shut down.”

“Shit.”

He gave me a look of sympathy.  “Yeah.  There are stories of people doing penny walls or using their grandma’s china to tile just so they have a working bathroom.”

“I don’t have either of those things,” I said sadly.

He nodded, “I’ll ask around.  It isn’t a big project and people might have some leftovers.”

Given how protective Nick was of the house I should have expected his warning.    I was still unimpressed to see “no ugly tile” written on the drywall in the morning.  Still, he could have used the last of my lipstick and instead had found a pencil somewhere.  I tried to ignore it as I brushed my teeth.  I didn’t even have a mirror over the sink.  Grumbling around the toothbrush I realized, “Fuck.  I’m the only person who could buy a haunted house where the ghost had been watching too much HGTV.”

That earned me a creepy house shaking laugh and proof that he hadn’t just left.

“It’s your fault,” he purred in my ear.  “You are the one who fell asleep all those nights with decorating shows playing on repeat on your computer.”

I sighed. “Yeah, it was,” I agreed sadly.  “If I hadn’t would you be haunting me right now?”

“If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have seen the value in what you are doing and I wouldn’t have spent a week keeping you alive when you got sick.  Perhaps you would have been haunting me.”

I frowned, “I wasn’t sick for a week!  It was only a couple of days!”

“You should check your calendar.  It was a couple of days of you being sick and a week of me forcing you to breathe.”

“There is no way I lost a week without noticing!”

He didn’t say anything.  When I checked my calendar there were nearly two weeks missing.  I told myself it didn’t mean anything.  Nick used my computer, he could have just deleted the information.  I could just call work or Penny or someone and ask how long I was away for.

I kind of didn’t want to.  What if he was telling the truth?

I took my coffee and toast and ate breakfast outside, once again wishing for a cigarette.  Nick had never left the house, as far as I knew, and I didn’t want to talk to him just then.  This was ridiculous!  Shadow monsters didn’t … do that!  They didn’t … exist.  I was just …  this wasn’t happening!

I was out of coffee and the coldness of the concrete bench was soaking through my night shirt and into my ass.  I had left the folded towel I used as a cushion inside overnight so it wouldn’t get damp.  Now I was cold and damp instead.  Fuck.

When I made it back to the kitchen, my laptop was open and had apparently been searching for bathroom tiles.  ‘Fine.  Whatever.  Pick something nice that I can afford.”

I don’t know what I was expecting him to do, but contacting a local stained glass artist wasn’t it.  I really wasn’t expecting her to check if it was OK if my boyfriend picked out the design since it was my credit card that was paying for it.

I was afraid to ask, but I had to know, “What did he pick?”

Nancy cleared her throat, “Well, originally he wanted a reproduction of a stained glass window from Maison Schott in France.  But when we talked about how complicated it would be for a tiler to install that, he settled on a simpler rose on trellis pattern.”

  I set down the phone to close my eyes and scrub my face.  “Do you like what he picked out?”  She seemed a little taken aback by the question.  “Yes?  It’s a little modern for your age of house, but it’s a nice piece and will be easy to install.  It mostly uses different textured white glass, so it would be in keeping with a white bathroom. I can have it ready next week.  I’m not exactly over run with work right now.”  She paused before she added, “I’ll send you some sketches and if there is anything you need changed, just let me know.  I could really use the income, to be honest.”

“Yeah.  I understand that.  I guess I’m just doing my part to keep the economy running.”

“I really appreciate that.   The whole ‘buy local’ movement ended when we weren’t allowed to leave our houses,”  Nancy pointed out.

“Ok.  Send me the sketches and the quote and I’ll get back to you in the next couple of days.”

I lay in bed that night and looked at the newly drywalled dining room ceiling.  “What are you doing, Nick?”

“Making a home for you,” he whispered.

“Can I even afford this?  You don’t have a secret money vault hidden in the walls with the razor blades, do you?”

There was a long moment of silence, then he whispered, “You could sell the wine instead of drinking it.”

I froze.  “Just because it’s old doesn’t mean that it’s valuable,” I pointed out.

Something caressed my calf as he purred his reply, “But it is.”

I closed my eyes and let my body melt into the mattress.   My breath caught in my throat as the touch moved up my leg.  As soon as I made the noise, the contact vanished.  I groaned.

“What are you doing?”

“Breaking the rules,” he grumbled from across the room.

I needed to know, “Why were there razor blades in the walls?”

“There was a slot in the back of the medicine cabinet for used razor blades to be dropped between the wall boards so that they were safe and wouldn’t hurt anyone in the trash.  That was perfectly normal at one point in history,” he explained.

I considered this, “Why were there bloody razor blades in the walls?”

He didn’t answer that one.  “Why haven’t you used your little toy since I cleaned it for you?”

Now it was my turn to be silent.

“You liked that toy,” he prompted.  “I liked watching you enjoy yourself.  Good for everyone.”

“That’s really creepy.  Can’t you just watch porn like a normal person?”

“Porn isn’t as satisfying,” he replied.  Then he added, “For either of us.  And I am not a normal person.”

“I noticed.”

“Would we have fucked by now if I was?”  he just sounded curious.  The vocal leer from a moment ago was gone.

“I would have had you arrested by now if you were.”

The low chuckle rumbled through the house at that.  I closed my eyes and he stroked my face.  “Let me watch,” he purred.  “I can feel how badly you want.”

That made my eyes snap open.  “What?”

“I can taste your fear, but also your pleasure.  I enjoyed watching you cum in a way that humans can not understand.  And I am very aware of your frustration.”

“What happens to my soul if a shadow … creature watches me play with myself?”

“It gets to live in a house with a happier guardian?” he suggested.

“A guardian?  Is that what you are?”

“Guardian sounds better than monster or eldritch god but that’s just semantics.”

“I’m pretty sure there is a difference,” I pointed out.

“Perhaps the difference is what I’m doing at the time.  And right now, I am guarding this house, taking care of you and hoping you will take care of yourself.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” I joked.   “I’m too damn tired!”  I thought for a moment, “I need more rules, Nick.”

“Like what?” he asked in a breathy hissing rasp that sounded pretty much like how I imagined a death rattle would sound.

“Well, there’s that,” I pointed out.  “Now I’m scared and I can’t see you so this is going to be another night of sitting up until I fall down.”

“You need to rest,” he murmured in a more normal voice for him.   It wasn’t human sounding, but it wasn’t deliberately scary.

I had already set up and was fumbling for a light switch. I shrieked when he caught my hand.  “Ugh! Look, either I get to sleep or you get to scare me, but you have to pick one.  And I can’t see when you are going to touch me, so it’s scary every time.  That’s why I asked you not to.  But if you can’t do that, can you at least tell me when it’s coming?”

“Would that really make it better if you knew I was going to lick my way up your back?”

“It would if I knew you would listen when I tell you not to.  This is about trust, Nick.  I don’t trust you.  I am already very aware of how vulnerable I am here.  You could easily lock me in the basement and wait for me to starve to death.  You could smother me with my pillow.  Hell, you could slice open an artery and hide the razor blade in the walls.”  I stopped abruptly, wondering if I was just giving him ideas.  “I can’t stop you and I can’t leave and I can’t trust you not to lock me in the bedroom because you think that will help me sleep.”  He let go of my hand.  I turned on the light and looked around the empty house.  “My head hurts and I don’t want to be afraid any more.”

“I have never done anything to hurt you, but I can see how I have done things that are frightening.”  It sounded like a whisper on the very edge of hearing.  “Turn out the light, lay down and I will rub your back until you can sleep.  I will do my very best not to be scary.”

I turned on my laptop as a source of light and sound before I turned off the light switch.  “I can’t believe I am saying this, but if you want this to be less scary for me, find me a nightlight.  I haven’t needed one since I was ten, but, congratulations, I do now.”

I felt the bed dip.  It didn’t always do that.  “I’m going to rub your back now,” he whispered. “You can tell me to stop.”

“Ok,” I acknowledge.

It wasn’t a massage; it was more like a person petting a cat.  He started at the top of my head and stroked back to my waist, then stopped and started again.  It was vaguely soothing and I was really exhausted by then.  At some point in the night I woke to see a huge black shape hunched over my keyboard.

In the morning I had emails confirming my order of six cartoon animal night lights from IKEA and one from an auction house saying they would be happy to broker the sale of my wine and that they would send an expert to confirm its authenticity.  

I wondered how you forge wine.

#quarantine #oh my god they were quarantined #shadow monster

[magpiemorality]

alright. i have to get it asked. “roommates who never see each other because they work opposite shifts, but now they’re stuck in quarantine and w h o o p s you’re kind cute but also a lil bit of an asshole how long do we have to be quarantined?? oh nooooooo “ w any couple u want!! even a throuple!!!

It’s been a long time coming but here we go! With misunderstandings, pining, denial and a happy ending :D I considered splitting this into parts but it works best as a whole so here you go! 

Love In The Time Of Quarantine

3900 words on the dot. 

AO3

***

The quarantine was a bit of a bummer. It could’ve been worse, Logan reasoned, because he at least could work from home and keep busy, and he had never worried too much about getting out and being social. He was extraordinarily lucky to be exactly where he would have wanted to be for such an event, well-stocked, well-paid and comfortable.

Unfortunately the same could not be said for his housemates. There were three of them sharing the place, a three-bedroom apartment at the top of a tall block on the outskirts of the city centre. It was nice enough, paid for by three reasonable wages, and had trees and a little park visible from the windows. Logan mostly worked freelance as an IT specialist of all kinds; Patton was apparently a nanny who worked out of home a lot, he knew thanks to the single swift conversation they’d had when the guy had first moved in, caring for his charges at their own home a few blocks away; and Remus was… Logan actually wasn’t sure about him. He was out overnight, coming back early morning to sleep through the day, and didn’t seem to have any specific equipment or work clothing that gave any clues about his job.

In any case, with their contrasting hours and jobs the three of them hadn’t had much of a chance to chat at any point since moving in, and no one had been the first to take the first step in initiating contact. Everyone just cohabited peacefully and that was perfectly fine, suiting them all well enough. But with the quarantine? Things were already changing fast, and the previously calm, quiet and spacious apartment wasn’t going to remain all those things for much longer.

“Oh good morning, Logan!” Patton chirped at 6:00AM on the first Monday morning stuck at home, as Logan dragged himself into the kitchen for his wake up coffee. Logan blinked, staring at what seemed to be most of their food supplies laid out in an enormous breakfast on the kitchen table, everything very neatly arranged and cut into small, bite-sized pieces. “I made breakfast!”

“You, certainly did…” Logan agreed, a little weak with shock. “Aren’t we supposed to be conserving food, however?”

Patton blinked at him, his eyes going wide behind his glasses. He clapped a hand over his mouth with a gasp. Logan was surprised his eyes didn’t fill with glittery tears, honestly, with the drama of the rest of the display. “Oh gosh, you’re right! How could I forget?! Oh I’m so sorry, Logan, I’ll go out and replace everything right away, oh no-”

“N-no,” Logan said slowly. “No, Patton you’re not allowed out. That’s the whole point.”

“Not allowed out at all?!” Patton replied, aghast, incidentally summoning their third roommate with the commotion. As Logan tried to placate the inconsolable nanny, promising him that that was an exaggeration and he absolutely could go out but it really was better not to unless there was no other option; the mysterious Remus appeared in the kitchen doorway, rumpled from sleep and not wearing anything but a shirt and some novelty Thanksgiving turkey underwear. Boxers, thank goodness, but still covering no way near enough for what was almost appearing in public, considering how little they all knew each other.

At least the intrusion stopped Patton’s panic, Logan thought, clearing his throat loudly as Patton stared and turned darker and darker pink in the cheeks. Remus was already piling food into his arms (oh okay, they were quite nice arms actually, maybe Patton had the right idea) and mouth, and he didn’t react to Logan’s attempt to politely indicate to him that his behaviour was a little inappropriate. He just nodded and winked at a brightly blushing Patton, and carried his hoard away back to his room. Patton just quietly and heavily sat down at the kitchen table and started absentmindedly smearing cream cheese onto a bagel, and after a moment Logan joined him, silently reaching for the toast.

Well. That was. Hopefully not an indication of how things were going to be from now on. Hopefully. Please?

Unfortunately (or fortunately from some angles) Remus continued to not wear many clothes. It was a terrible problem that both Patton and Logan had strangely and somewhat awkwardly bonded over. The first time the nanny had muttered something profane under his breath as their partial-nudist housemate wandered away back to his room after another appearance in search of food, Logan had stared at him with his mouth hanging open, trying to process those words coming from that mouth. Patton had just sighed and rolled his eyes, folding his arms defensively. “Just because I work with children doesn’t mean I can’t have a good swear now and then, Logan. I mean, you’ve seen that man’s ass!”

Logan had, indeed, seen that man’s ass. It just so happened to be one of those more fortunate angles, and Remus still apparently had something against wearing pants.

Bonding over Remus’s (admittedly very nice) body notwithstanding; the two of them actually got along pretty well. Perhaps it was being used to not having much of a social life that meant they were very comfortable and happy to just hang out quietly together, with Patton sat down at the coffee table embroidering or working on some fan art he apparently had quite the talent for, and Logan reading on one of the couches nearby. He would’ve gone so far as to work out in the living area because Patton was fantastic company and great for his motivation, but the effort involved in moving his entire workstation and cables was beyond reason, and the constant risk of being utterly derailed in whatever he was doing by Remus sashaying past sort of outweighed the benefits of having Patton there. Logan still had to actually get his work done in order to earn a living, after all.

And Remus sashayed a lot. At first it had just been once in the morning and evening as he ended and started his day respectively, probably as a result of the long-term night shift pattern, Logan reckoned. But then as Remus continued to be unable to go back into work he evidently started moving his daily pattern around somewhat. Logan would hear him moving around longer after breakfast, and his music or the sound of whatever he was watching on his laptop (Logan didn’t particularly want to listen too closely but sometimes it was hard not to, having the room that shared a wall), would stop earlier in the night.

He started to strut around more and more often while they were up and out in the living areas, grabbing snacks or wandering around for a stretch, coming to ask Patton what he was doing and leaning far closer than was necessary as Patton blushed his way through an explanation, stammering whenever Remus complimented his work effusively. He was quite the flirt, was Remus, Logan could tell. The guy full on preened at the way Patton’s eyes followed him, and he seemed to take great delight in making the nanny sigh by stretching in just the right way. More than once Patton had pricked his finger with his needle by letting his gaze linger a second too long, or cursed under his breath as he messed up a line on his tablet.

Logan was unaffected of course. Except for the times he had ended up rereading the same page of his book over and over again until Remus was long gone and his brain came back into focus. But those didn’t count! They didn’t count, Patton, stop laughing.

But there was another issue with Remus; he was increasingly messy the more time he spent at home. Patton was pretty clean, used to tidying up after a pair of rambunctious under-tens, and Logan barely made any mess in the first place, eating what Patton cooked and helping clean the dishes afterwards, sticking to his carefully planned laundry routine and rarely deviating. But Remus was just made of mess. He dropped clothing around the bathroom; he left dishes and mugs around; he seemed to order stuff a lot despite the whole quarantine situation (Logan frequently tutted when yet another poor delivery person showed up) and there were piles of cardboard boxes building up in the entrance to their apartment.

When Remus peeled his sock off and scratched at his foot, one afternoon, Logan narrowed his eyes. When Remus got up, leaving it on the arm of the couch when he left to go to his bedroom, Logan finally decided he’d had enough.

“Remus!” He snapped, striding to his room and standing in the doorway before the door could close. Remus turned around with an innocent blink, opening his mouth to say something with a smirk, but Logan got there first. “Do you mind. We’re all having to live in this apartment together and keeping it tidy is important to both me and Patton!”

Remus tilted his head, his eyebrows rising swiftly at the lecture and his smirk dropping in surprise. Patton appeared behind Logan in the hallway, hovering uncertainly. “I reckon Patton can speak for himself, actually,” Remus muttered, folding his arms over his chest with what appeared to Logan to be an actual pout. On a grown man, who was clearly in the wrong. Honestly.

“Oh well, yes. I would like it if you could perhaps… just keep your clothes to your room?” Patton asked weakly. “After all, a tidy house is a tidy mind! We’ll feel a lot better in a clean environment. And… it is a little icky.”

“Fine,” Remus sighed. “I’ll keep it tidy, no more ‘icky’.” Logan nodded in satisfaction and turned to leave but Remus, damn him, had to have the last word, voice dripping with innocent earnestness. “You should’ve said something before if it meant so much to you, guys!”

Patton made a quick excuse Logan away before he could explode, and they both missed the soft sigh behind the door to Remus’s room as it closed.

To be fair to Remus, he was very tidy after that. Remarkably so, in fact, just like he had been before the quarantine had taken effect. Not so much in his room, from the glimpses Logan got inside, but certainly in the rest of the apartment. Annoyingly he’d also apparently taken the confrontation as a good enough first interaction to invite himself into hang out time, somehow not sensing the animosity that radiated from Logan anytime they were in the same room.

Sure, it was his apartment too, and he was equally stuck in it, and when he helped out with the cooking it often resulted in exciting and fun recipes, and he had great taste in movies, and he also brought his something or other console out to hook up to the TV so they could play multiplayer games (after another delivery of extra controllers, of course), but. But! Logan was still never not on edge around him. Remus just… rubbed him the wrong way.

Oh god, wrong word choice there.

Patton of course got on famously with their troublemaker within the space of a few days, and started up a fierce and ongoing online Monopoly game that it seemed no one could win. Perhaps it was his experience with children, Logan thought snidely to himself on more than one occasion. He would hear them laughing together and watch Remus’s hands creeping lower and lower on Patton’s back day by day as they playfully pushed and sat near to each other, until Logan decided to just start spending more time on his work to avoid the inevitable heart attack from how high his blood pressure must be getting. And anyway he’d really let work go, what with spending so much time with Patton instead of on his projects. Just because there was a world crisis going on didn’t mean he didn’t have rent to pay. If only!

But of course Patton didn’t get the memo that this was the best course of action, and quickly grew concerned for Logan’s well-being. He instated a nightly dinner for the three of them, that he deviously used his best pleading expression to get Logan to attend, where Remus was just insufferably flirty and Logan ended up increasingly annoyed at being constantly teased. It just wasn’t very nice of Remus to taunt him with false flattery and it didn’t help that Patton had apparently moved from being equally as flustered as Logan by their hot housemate to being sort of fondly amused, in a way that spoke of… a new intimacy.

It only added to Logan’s dislike of his housemate when he walked past Remus’s bedroom to see them standing close together in the centre of the room, heads tilted so he couldn’t see their faces. He could see other things though, like the way Patton’s hands gripped at Remus’s waist, and Remus’s hand in Patton’s hair.

So that just added the cherry on top of the whole perfect box of proof of why Remus sucked, basically. He had not only stolen Logan’s precious peaceful friendship with Patton, and lured away all of Patton’s soft and warming smiles, but apparently didn’t even value them enough to not openly flirt with Logan whenever they were in the same room. Logan wished desperately that he didn’t still feel that irritating modicum of attraction to the man, because he really was stellar at flirting and could be incredibly charming, but he resigned himself to burying those feelings along with the hurt at how Patton had chosen Remus over him. Burying them deep, and trying to go back to how things were, before the quarantine.

And if anyone could play polite and distant, it was Logan, poster boy for IT nerds everywhere. Antisocial was basically his speciality.

He hadn’t bet on Patton.

Patton was the type of person who really took 'mom friend’ to a whole new level, and only partly because his actual literal paid job was to essentially be a stand in parent. When Logan started to pull away again he yanked back, pouting and wheedling and playing really dirty until Logan started coming back out into the living room for reading breaks again, just to stop Patton from bringing him cups of water and snacks every half an hour 'to make sure he was feeling okay’. They both knew well enough that the ulterior motive was to stop Logan from isolating himself and playing the wounded martyr, and damn it if it didn’t work. Patton was a master of this game.

“Logan, what do you think of this flower?” Patton would ask if Logan ended up in the kitchen for coffee, drawing him into a conversation about his latest embroidery project.

“Logan! Could you pop the kettle on?” Patton would smile sweetly if Logan got up from the couch, intending to go back to his room at last, easily conning him into bringing two mugs back to the couch and then distracting him again until an hour had gone by and Logan was still sat with them.

“Oh there you are Logan, settle this for me, do these stars look realistic?” Patton would bat his eyelashes if Logan finished a bathroom break, and Logan would just sigh and give in, and Remus would stifle a snicker from his own spot on the couch. Remus had also evidently been coached by Patton because he was noticeably quieter and more reserved whenever Logan had finally tentatively settled in the living room with them. Which was a real improvement, if you asked Logan.

But he still wasn’t friends with Remus, and he refused to let that last barrier be breached, even when Remus sneakily tried to join his conversations or get him to pass something at dinner, or tease him about his hair, his clothes, his work… Remus was the worst and Logan could not be convinced otherwise. His plan of hiding away from his housemates had failed because he liked Patton enough to give in just to make him happy, not because Remus was reasonably good company when he was just lounging on the couch and playing some video game with the sound considerately turned down, chipping in here and there and laughing softly at something either Logan or Patton said but not getting in the way. Even so! Logan still heard the sound of footsteps sneaking from Remus’s room to Patton’s late at night, and Remus still insisted on giving him winks and stupid seductive looks whenever he could, telling him he 'liked his company’ and he was 'actually pretty funny who knew’ and 'there’s no one to dress up for here Logan, why don’t you lose the tie?’

“I just don’t like him!” Logan hissed to his reflection one day in the bathroom. “He’s clearly dating Patton, not that either of them have said a word, and he keeps just flirting all over the place! Patton deserves better! And he’s a jerk. I like my tie! I like to maintain professional standards even if he’s decided clothes are the first to go in this time of chaos. Ugh!” He glared, yanking the tie in question off angrily and glaring at it. Maybe he’d thought he looked nice dressed up sharply with his tie and hair neatly combed each day, maybe he’d been thinking of the time Patton had complimented the little stars on the navy fabric. Maybe it was none of Remus’s business how he dressed!

“Hey, you done?” The very man in question’s voice came from the other side of the bathroom door. “I need to pee!”

Logan raised an eyebrow at his reflection, considering it. He was almost petty enough to refuse, but as always was unable not to give in, settling for yanking the door open slightly too hard. Remus, who had apparently been leaning on it for some stupid reason, stumbled inwards a bit, catching his balance on Logan’s hips. They blinked at each other, and Logan knew the moment Remus decided to say something cheeky because his eyes glinted and his mouth turned up at the corners. But not today, Satan!

“You say a word and I will tell Patton what a disrespectful boyfriend you are! I mean it!” Logan hissed, shoving Remus’s hands off with a glare and waggin a finger in his face.

“I- what the f-”

“Don’t you dare flirt with me!”

“Did you say boyfriend?!” Remus said, voice strangled, holding his hands up in the air out of the way.

“Boyfriend?” Patton said from behind them in the hall. “What boyfriend?”

Logan spluttered. “Yours! He’s trying to, to seduce me!”

All of their voices rose at once, Logan protesting his disappointment in Remus’s inability to be attentive to Patton; Patton trying to weakly protest the label and situation; and Remus protesting his accused infidelity. Louder and louder they got, stood awkwardly half in, half out of the bathroom, until Remus growled and grabbed Logan by the shoulders.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Logan!” He snapped. “So I’m going to kiss you now, unless you tell me not to.”

What.

Logan’s mouth opened and closed, cheeks on fire, like flames on the side of his face. He didn’t manage say a word, and Remus nodded decisively to himself, hauling the flustered Logan in for a strangely sweet kiss considering the tension in the air.

It didn’t last long, but Logan felt like he’d awoken into a different universe when Remus pulled back again, looking at him carefully. “Well?” He asked. Logan wondered why Remus would sound like he couldn’t breathe when clearly he’d stolen all of Logan’s air. “Does that compute, I, Lo-bot?”

Logan frowned a little at the nickname, but Remus’s expression was slightly nervous and mostly hopeful, not cruel or mean looking. And Patton, when Logan glanced over Remus’s shoulder, was holding his hands clasped in front of his mouth, eyes huge and round, bouncing a little with what looked like excited anticipation. “Um. That- Excuse me, I seem to have misunderstood a few things.”

“Yeah no kidding,” Remus muttered. “Alright, ask your questions science dude.”

“You aren’t with Patton?”

“Ah well, sort of?” Patton stepped a little closer, lowering his hands to smile at them, hooking his chin over Remus’s shoulder. “It’s not like, exclusive, that’s not really the point. And not your thing, right?” He murmured to Remus, who shook his head, eyes still on Logan.

Okay, add that to the 'known facts’ memory banks to add to the equation then. “So you aren’t cheating on Patton by flirting with me?”

“No!” Patton and Remus replied at the same time, sounding equally offended.

“Okay! Sorry. But you were actually flirting with me?” Logan checked.

The question received a snort and an eye roll. “I mean, yeah. I thought you were just playing hard to get, you kept ogling me so I figured you were definitely interested. But then you got all huffy, so I tried to cool it a bit and Patton said you might be jealous of us a little bit, but then you kept giving me all these like, looks, so I went back to like, trying to be nice and everything but you still just…” Remus shrugged helplessly.

Right, yes. The glances, the blushing… In his own defence he had mostly written it all off as just anger, but it was fair enough that Remus had interpreted the attention a little differently based on the whole fact that he was unaware Logan thought he was cheating.“And… you would like to develop some form of… alternative relationship with myself as well?”

“Yeah!” Patton interrupted, grinning his sweet, bright grin. He slipped a hand past Remus’s waist to take Logan’s hand and squeeze it. “All three of us, doesn’t that sound cool?! I mean, uh, if you want me too, that’s okay if not, I can just share this gu-”

“Oh god yes,” Logan nearly burst with the words. “I mean, yes! I would- yes. Hm. That would be very pleasing. And intriguing. I wonder how-”

Remus tugged him back in close, cupping his face right there in the bathroom doorway with a grin that turned wry. “Oh Logan. I can show you pleasing. But first I gotta pee guys, genuinely!”

They let Remus escape and close the door, and Patton gently led Logan out to the living room, sitting close beside him and turning to face him.

He cleared his throat softly, and Logan thought the nanny looked really beautiful with his cheeks all softly pink, giving him one of those treasured smiles that wiped all thoughts of logistics and practicalities and regrets away. “So. Not a bad way to pass the quarantine then, you reckon?” Patton murmured, brushing some of Logan’s hair back behind his ear and resettling his glasses neatly on his nose for him, before leaning in to steal a kiss of his own.

No, Logan thought a few nights later; sandwiched between his two housemates on the floor, lounging on the cushions they’d laid out for a movie night and warm from their body heat, the way Remus stroked his hair and made constant amusing comments on the movie, and how Patton was cuddling his arm and playing with his fingers, occasionally burying his face into Logan’s shoulder to smother his giggles.

Not a bad way at all.

–

The End

#writepie #intrulogical #logicality #intruality #moduke #intrulogicality #ts remus #ts patton #ts logan #ts writing #ts sanders sides #ts sanders sides aus #ts sanders sides fic #sanders sides #pining #coronavirus #quarantine

[pink-flame]

Not Working - For Lilly 💜

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LILLY!

For @chickwiththepurpleguitar

So, this is set in the world of WFW about a year after Julie left but it's not canon (yes I have my own canon 😂) within the WFW universe. In the world of my actual fic Luke and Bobby are just chaotic best friends/brothers who show their platonic love through fighting constantly. However, Lilly wanted Bobby pining after Luke in this universe and I love her so I have created this un-official splinter universe for her hc to live in. It does incorporate some of my actual ideas for the end of Sunset Curve in that original timeline though, just minus the pining. 😂 I hope you like it, my friend! 🥰(Also, I only went 100 words over our agreed upon word limit. Aren't you proud???)

It wasn’t working.

That was Bobby’s main thought as they packed up all their gear at the end of one of the final shows of their first tour. It was at least 2am, possibly later and they were all dragging as they forced their bodies through the second nature routine of getting everything safely into Beatrice. They had been all up and down the West Coast for the past few months, playing to decent sized crowds and getting a good response. The problem was this tour was supposed to be the thing that pushed them to the next level of success and that...that clearly wasn’t working.

Radio stations were completely uninterested in booking them to promote their performances.

Multiple venues had pulled out of hosting them at the last minute despite tickets already being sold, leaving them scrambling to find alternatives or canceling stops outright.

Even the company that printed their cheap t-shirts had politely declined their request to re-up their order.

It was like Sunset Curve had gone from being a band on the verge to a band on the verge of being unable to book a gig. None of this was that surprising given the fact that they had gone against Dec from Red Rose Records, an executive famous for holding grudges and exerting every bit of his influence to make things difficult for his targets. Part of Bobby had wanted to believe that Queenie would be able to intervene on their behalf, that she would finally stand up to her dad and find a way to make things easier for all of them. Part of him had wanted to believe she still cared enough about him to try.

Maybe she had and maybe she hadn’t and at the end of the day he couldn’t blame her either way. It had been a terrible situation all around...Luke’s attitude and Queenie’s dad insisting on that unfair contract and Bobby himself being completely incapable of putting everything out in the open when he was so scared of losing either Queenie or Luke. And that was to say nothing of Julie...all the absolute insanity that had been going on with Julie even though none of them knew it. It was because of her that he knew things could have gone much worse, could have ended with his friends dead and him as a hollow rockstar who betrayed the people he loved the most.

So even though he had loved Queenie (was probably still in love with her) and things with the band were quickly going downhill, he couldn’t bring himself to be entirely as depressed about those facts as he would have expected. He had his friends, they had each other, and they still had music. That wasn’t something anyone could take from them. It wasn’t perfect but it was enough. For him it was enough.

But he was also a realist and the reality was that things with the band weren’t working.

By the time they made it back to the questionable motel where they were staying for the night they were all dragging even more. Alex and Reggie disappeared into one of the rooms right away, barely pausing to wave goodnight to Bobby and Luke before they were shutting the door in their faces and presumably collapsing directly into bed. At the start of the tour they had all four shared a room in an effort to make their almost nonexistent tour budget stretch a little further but Alex had promptly declared Luke’s talking (and sometimes singing) in his sleep to be a crime against humanity and that to avoid him ending up with a murder charge they were going to need seperate rooms. Reggie had immediately started listing off various games he and Bobby could play to decide who got stuck sharing with Luke but Bobby had shut them all up by volunteering. That had earned him an odd look from Alex but Luke had clapped him on the back and made a speech about how it was nice to have someone on his side and the warm feeling that bloomed in Bobby’s chest was enough to help him forget opening his mouth meant he wouldn’t be sleeping much for the rest of the tour.

If he was being honest though he hadn’t exactly slept well for the better part of 2 years now. Even before Julie had arrived and all the madness that followed, Bobby had spent most nights laying awake for hours unable to fully ignore the fact that Luke was out in Wonderland curled up uncomfortably on that damn couch he still hadn’t figured out folded out. Bobby had spent a lot of time thinking about that and why exactly he could neither bring himself to go out and unfold the dumb bed himself and make sure Luke was ok or just fall asleep and ignore his friend’s relative comfort. So instead he had drifted off most nights tossing and turning, worrying about the boy who was so close and yet a world away.

So it really wasn’t that big of an adjustment for Bobby to be lying awake in various seedy motel rooms, trying no to think about how thoroughly the sheets had been cleaned and listening for the even breaths that would indicate his friend was getting some rest. He was often awakened again before long when Luke started talking in his sleep, snippets of nonsense bleeding into half-finished song lyrics fading into Julie’s name.

Bobby pretended to be asleep. He pretended not to hear.

He was a coward in some ways, always had been.

He didn’t have Alex’s wise advice or Reggie’s unexpected insights or Luke’s inspiring speeches. He didn’t have Queenie’s blunt truth telling. He didn’t even have Julie’s ability to make everything better simply by making sure you knew she was with you.

He just had good intentions and a tendency to avoid his problems, a useless combination.

But even he couldn’t ignore the way on this particular night Luke’s breathing never did even out. Instead, after barely twenty minutes of both of them lying still in their uncomfortable beds, Bobby listened as Luke slipped out of bed, pulled on his sneakers and slipped outside. He instantly sat up in the darkness and debated his next move. The typical Bobby move would be to lay back down and pretend he hadn’t noticed. That’s probably what Luke expected him to do. It might have even been what he wanted Bobby to do.

But Bobby was so sick of turning away and pretending he didn’t see what was happening around him. Pretending he didn’t see the blow up between Queenie and Luke coming, pretending he didn’t see that Julie was hiding something, pretending the writing wasn’t on the wall when it came to the future of Sunset Curve. Pretending he didn’t see how Luke still missed Julie like a phantom limb, an empty space that nonetheless managed to be an aching wound. Pretending Queenie didn’t represent the same to him. Pretending that despite the fact that he had loved Queenie (probably still did) he also thought...maybe...the other ache he felt came from loving something else...someone else...so much closer yet just as out of reach.

That wasn’t something he could ever say out loud. It just wasn’t. He was a realist and the reality was that Luke had loved Julie, still did and always would in a way that Bobby couldn’t fully understand even though he had witnessed it up close. He was never going to be the brave one, the one who told the truth just for the sake of doing it, just for an impossible chance.

So he couldn’t say out loud his inconvenient truth that maybe he had fallen in love with his best friend, just a little bit. He couldn’t.

But he could force his sock clad feet down onto the disgusting motel carpet. He could put his shoes on and slip outside and make sure his best friend was ok.

He could do that.

So he did.

At first as he blinked into the semi-darkness of the parking lot, a few flickering bulbs the only available source of light, he didn’t spot Luke at all. He felt a brief sense of rising panic flicker through him until the sound of shifting metal had his eyes darting over to the spot where Beatrice was parked. He squinted and could just make out Luke’s silhouette, hauling himself up onto the roof of Bobby’s van.

Bobby’s concern quickly melted into annoyance as he stomped over, coming to a stop next to his van and hissing up at the boy on top.

“What the hell are you doing up there?” Bobby demanded. “You’re going to put so many dents in the roof!”

Luke just scoffed, leaning over to peer down at Bobby with an annoyingly not at all repentant smile.

“Come on, Bobby,” He fired back. “Beatrice is 90% dents at this point. It’s part of her charm.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong there.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re up there,” Bobby grumbled.

Some of the cockiness drained out of Luke’s voice when he spoke again.

“Couldn’t sleep. Sometimes...sometimes looking at the stars helps.”

Bobby didn’t have to ask what exactly looking at the stars helped. He knew. And it wasn’t falling asleep.

It was missing Julie.

So Bobby didn’t fire back any of the relevant and bitingly hilarious retorts on the tip of his tongue. He simply sighed deeply before gripping the hood and hauling himself up to join his friend. If Luke was surprised by his decision he didn’t say anything, only reached his hand down to help pull Bobby up the rest of the way until they were both settled on the roof. Luke laid back and rested one of his arms behind his head as a pillow and Bobby mirrored him on the other side, their shoulders just brushing.

He had to admit, the view of the sky was a lot better than it had any right to be given where they were. Apparently they were just far enough outside of the city that the stars had a chance against the glow of civilization. The tiny pinpricks of light stretched out as far as he could see, their patterns and forms probably lost on Luke but he doubted his friend had come up here for a lesson on constellations and myths so Bobby kept his mouth shut.

Or at least he did for about 30 seconds before he glanced over at Luke and immediately regretted that decision. It was too hard to ignore all of the things he had been working so hard lately to ignore when they were this close.

He cleared his throat and brought his focus back to the reason he had followed Luke out in the first place.

“Any better?” He asked simply, rolling his head back to its original position so he could stare at the much safer vision of the stars again.

Bobby felt Luke shrug, his shoulder jostling against Bobby’s briefly.

“A little,” He said, sucking in a deep breath and then releasing it. “I just figure these are probably the same stars Julie’s looking at, you know?”

“Except for the ones obscured by 25 years of additional light pollution,” Bobby agreed.

“Wow, thanks, buddy,” Luke said dejectedly.

Bobby sighed and tried again.

“You know none of the stars we’re seeing are actually as they appear now, right? They’re so far away that even though that light is traveling to us extremely quickly it can still take years to get here.”

“I didn’t come up here for Bobby’s science time,” Luke mumbled.

“I’m saying that looking at the stars is like looking into the past,” Bobby insisted. “Julie’s probably not only looking up at the same stars, some of the one’s she’s seeing are how they appeared right here, right now. Isn’t that kind of cool?”

There was a brief pause giving Bobby just enough time to wonder if he had blown it again before Luke answered.

“Yeah,” Luke grumbled begrudgingly. “That is cool.”

Bobby couldn’t help but smile in satisfaction at that. Science could be comforting at times even if literature was his first love. The point was it had worked and he and Luke were back on solid ground again, or at least back on the creaking and protesting roof of his poor van.

“Have you heard from Queenie?” Luke asked, startling Bobby from his thoughts.

Bobby stiffened and shook his head before realizing it was too dark for Luke to see that gesture.

“Nah,” He answered, keeping his voice forcibly casual.

“Sorry,” Luke said simply.

“I’m sorry it’s still so hard,” Bobby returned. “Without Julie.”

“It’s fine,” Luke replied quickly. “Well, not fine, it’s hard everyday. You know that, but...I’m ok. I really am. You don’t have to worry.”

“But I obviously do,” Bobby snapped before realizing his mistake. “I mean all of us do.”

If Luke noticed his slip he didn’t comment on it.

“I’m always going to miss her,” He said softly. “But I believe she’s happy with her family and I have you guys and music and I’m happy too. Mostly. Usually.”

Bobby tried and failed not to let that traitorous warmth grow in his chest again at the thought of being one of the things that made Luke happy.

It wasn’t working.

So he turned his attention to the other thing that wasn’t working, the other conversation they needed to have, in an effort to distract himself.

“The tour’s almost over,” He started carefully. “Time to make some decisions.”

Luke let out another one of those deep breaths, Bobby instinctively scooting just half an inch closer until he could reassure himself with the feeling of Luke’s next inhale.

“I know,” Luke acknowledged, his voice sounding tired but not pained.

“Dec’s never going to let this band make it big,” Bobby continued gently. “And we’re almost out of money. Again.”

“I know that too,” Luke said softly. “I just wanted to finish out the tour before I made myself accept it. Even with all the struggling it has been pretty rad, hasn’t it?”

Bobby thought back to the hours and hours of driving in a smelly van and the gross motels and the cancellations and the crappy pay and the absolutely crushing exhaustion. He also thought back to the time spent with his best friends, and the small crowds singing their words back to them, and their dream, or at least some small portion of it that they had scraped and bled to come true.

He thought of Luke’s elated grin when they were playing their first song every night.

“Yeah,” He agreed with a soft smile that he knew Luke wouldn’t be able to see. “It’s been pretty rad.”

“We could keep trying…” Luke offered half-heartedly. “If we keep pushing long enough maybe something in this industry will give.”

“Or we’ll end up washed up and hating each other,” Bobby countered.

“That’s another possibility,” Luke sighed yet again. “But this is all we’ve got, Bobby.”

“Reggie’s been applying to film schools,” Bobby said, cringing at the groaning metal noise that came with Luke’s surprised reaction as he rolled toward his friend.

“He has? Why didn’t he tell me?” Luke asked.

“Nobody wants to let you down,” Bobby explained gently, turning his head to meet Luke’s confused gaze. “We love music, we do. We wanted this, so badly, you know that. But...it’s not like it is for you. It’s not...everything.”

“He could have told me,” Luke grumbled. “I would have been happy for him. I am happy for him.”

“Hey, you can tell him that tomorrow,” Bobby reassured him. “I figure we’re due for one last band meeting.”

“This sucks,” Luke huffed out, turning his head back up to the stars. “Like I don’t have any regrets cause we gave it our best shot, and I want all of you to be happy even if that’s not in the band. But on top of...well, everything else...it still sucks.”

“Yeah,” Bobby agreed simply. “It really sucks.”

“What are you going to do?” Luke asked.

“I don’t know,” Bobby offered honestly. “Maybe go to college? Study literature or psychology.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to be a shrink like your parents,” Luke teased.

“Hey, I think we’ve all proven that there are a lot of kids out there who could use someone to talk to about their messed up family dynamics,” Bobby said.

“Too bad they might get stuck talking to you,” Luke joked, bumping his shoulder with Bobby’s and sending an incredibly annoying shock of happiness through him.

“Shut up,” Bobby mumbled, not meaning it. Not at all.

There were a few seconds of silence before Luke spoke up again.

“I really am happy for all of you to do whatever you want,” He said firmly. “Seriously. But I can’t give up on music.”

“I know,” Bobby said softly. “It won’t be easy.”

“Hey,” Luke replied. “I figure impossible is relative in my life at this point.”

Bobby couldn’t resist a short bark of laughter at that.

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

They were silent again for a few long moments before Bobby found just enough courage to give voice to one last fear.

“Hey, Luke? We’re still going to be friends right?”

Luke’s answer came quickly.

“Of course, man. You’re my best friend. Band or no band.”

Bobby nodded, not caring this time that Luke couldn’t see him. When he answered he could hear the held back tears in his voice and he was pretty sure Luke could too.

“Band or no band.”

Luke reached out blindly and latched his hand around Bobby’s, just for a second, but the contact was enough to leave Bobby’s fingers tingling long after his friend had retracted his.

He tried to pretend that it was just the result of some kind of electric shock but…it wasn’t working.

Still.

He couldn’t bring himself to be sad about managing to fall in love with yet another person who couldn’t give him everything he wanted.

Julie had taught them a lot of things but one of the big ones was that something didn’t have to end the way you hoped it would for it to be beautiful, and meaningful and worth it. Love didn’t have to be forever or even returned in the same way to be beautiful, and meaningful and worth it.

Bobby had loved both Queenie and Luke (he probably still did) and he didn’t regret either.

Queenie would always be someone he wished the best for from afar and Luke?

Luke would always be his best friend.

Band or no band.

And that would keep working

He would make sure of it.

#my fics #we found wonderland vibes #lobby #lukebobby #not canon #but some delicious pining for my friend #because what is friendship if not creating ultra specific splinter universes to cater to each other's tastes #HAPPY BIRTHDAY LILLY

[goldeneyedgirl]

TwiFicMas20 Christmas Eve: All These Broken Things

... Is it really the end of FicMas if I haven’t posted something from All These Broken Things? I think not. The first sections can be found here and here. This is the fic where Alice travelled with James and doesn’t meet the Cullens until that baseball game. 

It's very strange finally being with the family she was always destined to be with, when she thought she had lost them so long ago.

She finds great satisfaction just watching them - Emmett yelling at the sports on the television; Edward perched at the piano, Rosalie working on her cars. She hovers, like a little ghost, folded into corners and against doorframes, vanishing the second they might acknowledge her.

Esme seems to like her company, as she goes about day-to-day things, chatting away to the silent girl with the enormous, sad black eyes, who trails after her like a stray.

She stays away from Carlisle, trying to avoid the moment he declares her to be cast out, too far gone for them to redeem.

And she stays away from Jasper, because it hurts too much. She doesn't tell Jasper what she knows, what they were meant to be to one another. The past is gone, and she has been broken into too many pieces. He watches her like a hawk, and without words, she knows he will be the one to destroy her if she steps out of line. His hands will crack her limbs apart and he will not flinch or feel any loss.

She wonders if she should tell him that if he was the to destroy her, she would not fight it. She would part in his hands like a paper doll, and hold no ill will to him for such an act.

Sometimes, she lets herself remember the old visions, the ones where they were everything to one another. Only when Edward's away, though; she doesn't like him rifling around in her head. No one deserves being forced to see some of those things.

And it hurts, a raw wound in her heart, that she was meant for something else, for happiness and peace and love, instead of what she was dealt in life. One of her greatest unanswered questions is why? What unforgivable thing did she do in her forgotten human past that earned such a punishment?

Then she remembers what she has done at James’ side for so many decades, at the faces and the screams and the suffering, and somehow she lived her crimes and her penance at the same time.

So she continues to pretend she doesn’t notice that Edward keeps Bella away from the house; that Emmett or Jasper hover in the background as she trails after Esme, as she watches Rose. That she can only go hunting when Jasper and Emmett can go along too; the ones strong enough and fast enough to restrain her.

When Edward does bring Bella back to the house at Esme’s insistence, she sits on the opposite side of the room, and listens to the conversation, keeping still and silent.

When Carlisle arrives home from work, she focuses on the magazine or book she has found, pretending to be absorbed by the glossy pictures, still and silent, to not notice as he studies her with patience she isn’t sure is genuine.

When Jasper joins Emmett for something noisy and angry on the television, their gazes occasionally sliding towards her, she is frozen in place, her gaze out the window.

She’s played this game before. Be good and quiet and still. The blow will come, eventually, but at least she can prepare herself for it, brace herself for the inevitable fall. They don’t trust her.

She doesn’t trust her, either.

Six.

They settle into a sort of routine.

She’s allowed to hunt with Esme and Rosalie now, though she’s careful to keep her distance, to trek a little further into the forest, to reassure them. She usually waits until they call her back.

She is always carefully supervised during their hunts, and finally, finally, the cracks James left across her nose and cheeks have finally faded away. They hunt too often for her, and when she forces herself to finish the animal, she vomits everywhere. She says nothing, but she feels safer a little hungry, her eyes black rather than a strange gold-orange.

Edward lets her sit beside him when he plays the piano, tells her about each of the pieces of music. He tries to teach her once, attempts to guide her hands into position, but she panics and jerks away, and he doesn’t offer again.

Emmett is nice to her. He seems to understand not to come up behind her without warning, not to touch. Sometimes she perches on the end of the couch and watches the television with him. She doesn’t stay very long, but he always gives her a big smile when she leaves, as if he’s had a wonderful time.

She doesn’t understand Emmett, but she thinks she could like him.

Rosalie can’t seem to decide whom she dislikes more – her or Bella - and she’s sure that Rose is going to get whiplash from changing her mind about both of them so many times. But Rose addresses her and is reasonably civil, mostly out of some kind of misguided caution that she is some kind of threat, and that is some kind of progress.

She and Bella have few words to say to each other. ‘Sorry I helped someone attempt to torture and exsanguinate you’ isn’t something she can work out how to say out-loud and have it sound genuine. Mostly because the truth is closer to, ‘I’m sorry you found yourself in this situation, but I don’t regret my choices. The consequences for me would have been much, much worse than you can ever comprehend. Your fragile mortality would have spared you of the worst of it. I’d make the same decision one hundred times in a row without a second thought.’

She’s certain that would upset everyone.

Bella seems rather reluctant to spent time in her presence, and she does wonder if that’s because she’s the side of the coin that isn’t beauty-wealth-love. She’s the side of suffering, of pain and of misery, murder and regret. Bella wants perfection, wants the glamour and magic of the Cullens, and none of the honest truth of being a vampire.

But it’s probably the murder attempt.

Then there are things that haven’t changed since she arrived. She’s not allowed to be alone, or to leave the house aside from hunting – even then, she has to be accompanied.

But every single day, James is still gone and she is still here. And there will never be a time when that knowledge is not sweet.

//

Her wardrobe is limited - a few old t shirts that once belonged to Esme and are too big, her worn jeans and the filthy, stained cardigan that she had when they found her. Her thin knees have long since torn through her pants, and the cardigan's sleeves are frayed and holey, but she is clean and free.

And then she is deemed in control enough to go shopping. Esme approaches her with the idea, with glossy magazines and gentle suggestions. It is an idea that has even intrigues Rosalie enough for her to join them.

They clearly still think she is a risk, though, because it is a family outing, with looks of such boredom and long-suffering on the faces of the male Cullens when it is decided, that she laughs softly behind her hand.

The building they take her to is huge and full of people. It is like a blow to the face, of blood and scent, and she visibly recoils from it at first, unsure and on edge. And they are patient, escorting her in, with encouraging words.

Eventually, though, they show her the clothes and the sight of the racks is enough to distract her from the heady scent. It is overwhelming, the colours and fabrics and styles, and she simply stares, with Emmett laughing at her stunned expression.

Esme is so kind, guiding her gently through the racks, telling her to choose anything she likes. She is careful, though, picking new jeans, a new cardigan, soft and clean and sunshine yellow. Esme helps her pick shoes out - the first pair she's had in decades. Soft brown winter boots, black sneakers, gold and black flats that make her feel like a princess. At her childlike delight with her fancy shoes, Esme buys her a black sundress with ties at the back and bows on the straps, that will bare her arms and triangles of flesh on her back.

Underwear is a strange concept. It's nothing that she has ever bothered with before. She is useless in the wake of so many choices, and let's Esme and Rosalie choose what she needs, dress her like a doll, whilst she amuses herself with how clearly uncomfortable both Jasper and Edward are in such a department.

She almost feels pretty – even desirable - in the plain cotton that make her skinny frame look almost womanly. She’s too embarrassed to even try on the satin and lace sets Rosalie has chosen. They aren’t for girls like her – girls that wear those things are more than she will ever be – prettier, sweeter, bolder. They are too much, and when she refuses, she doesn’t understand the look Rosalie and Esme exchange, Rosalie looking sly and Esme with an expression of warning.

Afterwards, they look for other things. The books hold little interest for her, as do the endless electronics. She doesn’t mean to wander off, but a demonstration by the art supplies store catches her eye, and she stands a little away from the crowd, watching the man draw. It is Esme and Jasper who find her, both looking alarmed, but she pretends she doesn’t see them, her gaze focused on the pencil that so carefully makes its way across the page.

“Alice,” Esme is at her side. “You scared us.” Her smile is bright, but her eyes worried – what would the Cullens do if she attacked in a place like this, with so many eyes? She doesn’t get to ponder that thought much longer, as Jasper’s hand closes over her shoulder and she is guided away.

For the rest of the afternoon, Jasper is her ominous shadow, as she dutifully trails after them.

She doesn't have her own room, but she doesn’t truly need one. Until now, she hasn’t had any possessions to store, and she doesn’t require the privacy a mated couple does. But, she has found she likes the attic. Full of things that need repairs or to be stored, it is a mad tea party of furniture and items.

There’s an old grey chair is missing a leg, and has an ugly stain that not even Esme could draw out that she likes. She folds herself into it, and she feels safe in that little corner, with the narrow window that overlooks the forest and spills in afternoon light. There's an old dresser up there, too, so that's where she arranges her new things, carefully folding and smoothing them into each drawer, precisely and lovingly.

Rosalie brings her some cosmetics and half a glass bottle of perfume – the bottle is shaped like an egg and etched with tiny flowers and curlicues and it is so delicate and beautiful, she is frightened to hold it. Rosalie watches as she sprays the scent into the air, the delighted look at the scent of flowers. She is nervous at Rosalie’s gesture, but grateful. Grateful enough that she allows Rosalie to cut the matted ends of her hair off into a neat, shorter style.

It makes her look more delicate, younger, maybe sweeter, she thinks as she strokes the strands in the mirror. And less like a roving maniac, at least according to the shiny-haired Rosalie, who watches her with satisfaction in her eyes.

She should be offended, but there’s this tiny hope that maybe, just maybe, Rosalie is turning her into something new. Something good and better.

Something like a sister.

//

It’s Esme’s idea to invite Bella around the evening of her birthday. Just a family gathering, with a few simple gifts. Everyone sort of agrees, and try to work out what to give the sullen girl.

She manages a portrait of Bella and Edward seated together at the piano that Esme gushes over, and has framed.

There have been some hints, from Carlisle and Edward that she will have to attend school eventually. She doesn’t understand that, but is just waiting for them all to graduate. They’ll leave when they’ve graduated and she won’t have to worry about school again.

She arranges peonies on the piano for Bella, upon Esme’s request, and is reminded of her old, fragmented vision of blood and glass. But nothing comes to her; the future is clear and her mind has decided to play tricks on her again.

Or perhaps her mind is the best part of her, the gentle warning she ignored becoming obvious as soon as Bella’s finger slips against the wrapping paper. Jasper’s eyes blacken as soon as Bella’s flesh parts and the blood beads, and suddenly he is lunging. She sees it in an instant, Bella’s crumpled body in his grip and Edward’s howls and the house of the Cullens irreversibly fallen. She sees an endless parade of James’ victims, broken and dead in Bella’s blank eyes.

She sees the horror and the guilt in Jasper’s eyes, sees the vastness of Mexico and the rise of a monster born of regret and impulse.

It is over before he even moves, decision made, and she has to stop this.

The shriek startles them all, coming from her mouth as she darts in front of him.

In another life, the flavour of her desperation and fear would be enough for him to pause, to grasp wildly at his resistance. Instead, he throws her aside, her body crashing through the front windows in a rain of wood and glass, leaving an imprint of her body in the flowerbed outside.

She picks herself up out of the flower bed as Emmett and Rosalie drag Jasper bodily from the house, Esme close behind them. Their eyes are all pitch black; a harmless paper cut did not cause this reaction.

“She cut open her arm,” is Emmett’s grim explanation as Jasper’s struggles slow, his eyes firmly on the door of the house.

“It was an accident,” Esme adds, shame in every line of her stance.

“Alice seemed to know,” Rosalie murmurs, her eyes still on Jasper.

She will never understand Rosalie, why she always needs to assign blame, to identify the victim and the antagonist. She ignores the statement, even as they all swing to look at her, as she examines her shoulder. Jasper didn’t hit her hard enough for cracks to form, but it doesn’t look like it’s properly aligned.

When she does look up again, she can see it in all their eyes – did she let this happen on purpose? Does she hold some ugly vendetta against poor, sweet Bella?

She did help James …

She’s surprised – she thought it would be Edward that came after her, later, to criticise and punish her for the limitations on her faulty gift. He still might – he hasn’t decided properly, too focused on patching up Bella.

But it’s Jasper, wrenching out of Rosalie and Emmett’s grasp, with murder in his eyes and the target on her.

He doesn’t yell, but his words are poisonous, nasty and accusing. She flinches, Esme gasps and even Emmett tries to get him to stop. Some of them, she knows, aren’t meant for her. They are frustration, humiliation and disappointment directed at himself, at his own weakness.

But when she instinctively backs away, and he grabs her wrist, and she lets out a tiny cry of fear; it is Rosalie who comes to her rescue, who snarls and yells and pries his iron grip from her.

“I don’t care how pissed you are, you don’t touch her like that.”

The words seem to echo, and Carlisle, Edward and Bella are watching from the front door.

Her apology is stammered, weak in the sudden silence, her insistence that she didn’t know sounding bewildered and feeble as she darts away, into the forest to pick glass and wood out of her hair and wonder just how many other warnings she’s missed.

//

#twificmas20 #ficmas20 #ficmas #alice cullen #jasper hale #twilight renaissance #twilight fic #my fic #fic: all these broken things #my fic: all these broken things #i like attention #that's why i do ficmas #honesty is the best policy #is ATBT getting a full tear-down and rewrite for 2021? you betcha

[punkpoemprose]

December 5th- Livestream

Universe: 2010′s AU Streamer! Anna AU Rating: Teen (maybe I’ll do a smutty followup at some point!) Length: 4368 Words

A/N: Sorry this is a little late. I didn’t have wifi for most of the day so I spent it doing other Christmas things instead of writing.

“So you’ve really never played a videogame before?” She asked, “Like you didn’t play Pokémon or Mario as a kid?”

She was sitting, cross-legged, atop one of the four washers in the apartment complex’s laundry room, snacking on Nacho Doritos and undoubtedly making a mess in a room meant for cleaning things. Across from her, pulling clothes from the drier was her neighbor Kristoff. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone except for maybe her sister, but she’d been intentionally doing her laundry on the same schedule he did his, He wasn’t usually the social sort from what Anna could tell, but she found him very attractive and relished the weekly opportunity to get to know him better. Also, secondarily, but no less importantly, it gave her the opportunity to stare at his very tones ass as he bent over to remove his clothes from the dryer. That he always wore basketball shorts on laundry day was proof enough to her that God was real and she or he wanted Anna to thrive. Or to be tested for her strength of will. Perhaps both.

“Not really,” he admitted with a shrug, “I grew up mostly playing hockey. One of the ice rinks used to have a pinball machine, and I played that, bit it probably doesn’t count.”

Anna snorted and set down the bag of chips, shaking her head and wiping her fingers on her sweatpants. He was a totally unique guy, vastly different than the “pretty boys” she normally took an interest in. Her attraction to him ever growing since the day he moved in. That day, when she’d first noticed him, she’d been given the great pleasure of watching him lift heavy boxes through her window, and then through her peephole after he’d climbed the stairs.

“Did it have a screen or a ball?” She asked, more as a joke than anything given that she knew the obvious answer.

“Touché,” he replied.

She took one last good look at his rear as he straightened up, appearing to be satisfied that all his clothes were out of the dryer and into his green laundry basket. The smell of his dryer sheets wafted over to her from the open dryer as he shifted out of the space and she decided that she needed to up her laundry scent game. It was unfair that someone was allowed to be as attractive as he was and to also smell like lavender and citrus and all the good things on the Earth.

She noticed, probably a bit creepily if she was being honest with herself, that he wore boxer briefs. And since she’d first noticed it weeks before the image of him wearing them and nothing else had haunted her late-night thoughts like a sexy specter. As a result, it had provided her of the most perfect mental picture of what he might look like in her apartment, in her bedroom, undressed and giving her the eye. She bit her lip trying to rid herself of the thought, lest he glance over at her and see her giving him bedroom eyes, or worse, drooling all over herself. He probably didn’t even realize that he was weapons grade sexy, because that made him even more attractive in her books.  

“Sometimes I play solitaire on my computer if I’m waiting fi something to load,” he offered in his own defense.

He was turning towards her now, proving her concerns correct. He rested his basket against his hip as he leaned back on the now empty dryer. His sheepish smile and tone told Anna that he knew that the defense was not particularly convincing in anyway, but that he needed to at least try.

“That’s just sad,” she teased, shaking her head as if she truly were severely disappointed in him instead of just joking around.

“Well not everyone plays videogames for a living Anna.”

It wasn’t an attack really, but more of a statement. When she’d started talking to him the words may have had more sting, but now, knowing him and his gruff but kindly manner, she took it for the joke and defense of his lack of experience that he meant it to be. If he had a flaw it was that he was a bit of a grump. He’d never been mean though, and she was already watching him soften more and more by the day.

“Well not everyone is a chef either Kristoff,” she replied, “It takes all types to make the world go round.”

“I’m a baker,” he corrected.

He rolled his eyes at her when she shrugged and gave him her best “po-tay-to, po-tot-o” look. The look and sigh of exasperation that this rewarded her made her laugh. There was little better than the playful exchanges she could have from him in just looks, and it was one of the many reasons why she enjoyed being around him. They didn’t know each other very well yet, but she still felt like he got her somehow.

“And also, just so you know, you sound like my mother.”

“She’s a wise woman.”

She of course knew that he was a baker, but she hadn’t really realized that he’d rather be called a baker than a chef. Either way, she was still hoping that maybe someday he’d show up at her door with dinner, or a cake or something, just so she could invite him in.

“That she is.”

A silence fell between them as he folded his things and while Anna swapped her own clothes out of the washer and into the dryer. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, but rather a companionable one. That was of course, until they both seemed to come to the realization simultaneously that one of them would be leaving sooner or later.

“You can change it by the way,” Anna offered.

“My mother being wise?”

She almost laughed. She hadn’t met his mother, but she doubted that with a son like him she had the power to change anything about her. If anything, she might ask her for some wisdom of her own.

“Oh gosh, no. All mothers, or at least all the ones I’ve met, have been wise. No, I meant the ‘never played a videogame’ thing.”

He shrugged at first, but then gave her a look betraying a greater level of interest. She wasn’t sure whether he was going to say yes or no, and there was a long pause as he thought about it.

It would be fun, she thought, to play with him. Maybe, if he’d let her, she’d stream it too. Videos of experienced players teaching others always had high entertainment and replay value. It would be good for her brand, but mostly she just wanted an excuse to invite him to her apartment. She’d been wanting for a while to see him somewhere other than in stairwells and the laundry room.

“What do you play?” He asked finally, seeking out more information.

She wasn’t sure he was quite ready for the long list of games she’d streamed before, let alone the even longer one of games she’d played just for fun. She decided it was best to give him the highlights of the CliffsNotes.

“I play a little bit of everything. I’m competitive in Overwatch and League of Legends, but I’m not really like… going to in person tournaments of anything. I just get invited to a few online cups here and there. Mostly I just play for my audience rather than thinking about joining a league or anything.”

He looked at her like she had three heads that each of them was speaking a different language. She’d gotten too deep too fast she supposed.

“I just mean that those ate the games I play against people seriously in. I play other games for fun and for people to watch how they’re played.”

He nodded, and while she could still see confusion in his eyes, he was making a solid effort to understand. She did notice that he was giving her a sort of amused smile, like he was enjoying the conversation despite not really knowing what it was she was talking about.

“Can you put that into different terms? I get that it’s competitive, but are you playing for money or points or?”

“Sometimes a cup will have a cash prize, but mostly I earn money from people watching my streams on Twitch and then the replays and the play throughs of games I post on YouTube.”

They’d talked before a bit about what they each did for a living. She’d been trying to figure out how to ask him what bakery he worked at so she could drop by sometime but hadn’t quite figured out how to be subtle about it yet. He knew that she was a streamer, and while it was a difficult career to try to explain to someone, he’d made the effort to understand as she offered him more and more details each time. He hadn’t asked for her username of anything, which was always equal parts disappointing and unsurprising. She didn’t really want him to watch her videos per say, but she also wanted to be able to imagine that he was tuned into her streams when she was doing them. She just wanted to be able to pretend for a little while that he was interested in her enough that he’d want to watch.

“Uh, I don’t know where this falls exactly, but my sister’s kids play Minecraft. Do you play it? They talk about it, but I don’t really know what it’s all about.”

“I could show you,” she replied, feeling a bit bold, “We don’t even have to stream it if you don’t want.”

He stopped to think again, and Anna was careful not to let her eyes wander too far down his body as she took the time to take in the muscle of his arms, the way his black t-shirt strained over the expanse of his chest. Whatever it took to be a baker, she decided, must be one hell of an upper body workout. His rear, she’d already decided, was surely hockey related. He’d never said so directly, but she was fairly sure he still played, and on occasion she’d see him carrying a large duffle up and down the stairs.

“I guess I wouldn’t mind. Could my niece and nephew watch?”

She grinned. It was a date.

They’d settled n the weekend, not too early, not too late. She’d insisted on calling his sister to let her know personally that the kids could watch them play from home. When her sister had called him to let him know about the call, she’d told him how nice Anna had been over the phone and how she’d even given her instructions on how to keep chat closed for the kids’ viewing so that if anyone typed something profane they wouldn’t have to see it. Generally, Anna set up the whole evening and his one and only job was “show up and have fun”.

He’d been a little uncomfortable with the idea even after agreeing to it. He didn’t really know how to act around her, let alone on camera. The fact of the matter was that he was an introvert and Anna was the opposite. She was warm and gregarious, and she was, at least to his yes, radiantly beautiful.

When she’d offered to teach him to play a game, to bring him into her world, into her home, he hadn’t been able to say no.

For months, since he moved in and they started sharing their laundry room conversations, he’d been trying to find a way to get to know her better. All he’d wanted was an excuse to take more time, because when he was with her, he felt happier than he could ever remember being with anyone other than his family or his friend Sven.

He was sure Sven would be tuning in to see whether he made an epic fool of himself. The whole viewing world, or at least all her viewers, would be watching him bumble about, but it was worth it because it would make Anna smile. And he supposed also that it was a plus that he’d be able to play a game with his niece and nephew the next time he saw them, but mostly it was for Anna.

He took a deep breath before knocking on the apartment door. He’d wanted to bring her flowers or something as a thank you for teaching him how to play, but Sven had put the kibosh on it when he’d brought it up, insisting that it would make it seem like a date and that he needed to “play it cool” until “the real date” that he was somehow sure there would be.

“One sec guys, I think that’s him!”

He heard the patting of bare feet moving quickly across the hardwood floor. When the door swung open with a creak, he was met with a grinning Anna and a warm rush of air into their always too cold hallway.

The breeze carried on it the smell from her apartment, which hit him more directly than the heat. It smelled like the holiday collection at bath and body works had an illicit affair with the food scented and musk Yankee candles producing a lovechild that reminded him of what the bakery might smell like if it was in the middle of a garden. It was all sugar and spice, chocolates and floral.

It was like her, and as he saw the bright décor evident even in her entryway, he couldn’t help but smile. It was no surprise that she’d want to be in a place as bright and fun as she was.

“Hey,” she said excitedly, reaching up to click something on the headset she wore, and then reached for his hand, “I’m so glad you could make it! Your niece and nephew are viewing with everyone else. They’re extremely excited for their Uncle Kris to learn a videogame.”

He felt her fingers card through his as she lead him through the door and into the apartment. She was talking and while he was trying to listen, he was distracted by the fact that somewhere in his head, something was screaming over the fact that she was holding his hand, and that he was in her apartment and that this was all happening.

“Okay?”

“Huh?”

She was looking at him and he forced himself to focus on that, the way she was giving him an understanding smile, preparing to repeat what she’d said while he was busy spacing out.

“We’re going to just do an hour unless you decide you want to go longer. We’re going to play on my PC instead of console today. There’s going to be another monitor next to you with my livechat running but you don’t have to interact with chat if you don’t want to. I’m going to just give you a spare headset for audio, okay?”

He wasn’t really sure that he was okay. He was feeling spaced out and wasn’t really sure whether or not he was going to regret this whole thing, but then she squeezed his hand gently and he decided that it was all alright.

“Yeah, thanks for doing this. I’ve been meaning to…” Spend time with you? Ask you out? Watch your streams like a creep because I want to pretend you’re talking to me?, “learn to play something, you know… for the kids. They’re going to think you’re the best after this.”

She smiled and squeezed his hand again, this time holding it tight for a little longer before letting it go entirely, like she didn’t really want to let go.

“I’m glad you’re letting me. I’m really glad you came tonight.”

He took a deep breath, trying not to read into it as she led him over to her streaming setup. There were two chairs set up in front of a webcam with a bunch of screens around them. The main screen had “Standby” written on it next to a cartoon of Anna wearing a headset and drinking a hot cup of tea. The little icon was kicking one foot back and forth under a cartoon version of her computer chair and the cup was billowing steam. It was cute to say the least, and she must have agreed because she walked over, got into her chair and “booped” the nose of the drawing before beckoning him to sit next to her.

“Ready to go?” she asked brightly, handing him a bright green headset that had been sitting next to the main computer’s mouse and keyboard.

He took it and put it on, deciding that this was, in fact, going to be alright after all.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

She smiled and he felt her hand go to his again, giving it a squeeze where it rested on his lap before she pressed a button on his headset, then one on hers, and then clicked a few things with her mouse, bringing them on the stream, live, before an audience of a few hundred people.

***

“Hello and happy Saturday!” Anna announced warmly, trying to focus on working even though Kristoff was right there at her side, relaxed and smiling at her more than he was at the camera, “As you guys requested Kristoff, my neighbor is back for the fifth consecutive weekend to learn a new game.”

She tried not to roll her eyes when she noticed the amount of comments in chat that were, to say the least, thirsty. Anna had noticed that since having Kristoff on her stream for the first time, a fair amount of her female audience had been staying on stream for longer than they normally would. Normally she wouldn’t complain, but there was something about them thirsting over Kristoff that made her want to get her mod to kick them from chat.

It would be bad for business, but every time she saw Kristoff’s eyes wander over to chat and saw him flush from the attention, she wanted to take him into the other room and give him the proper attention he deserved. She’d gotten close to kissing him after the last stream he’d joined her for, and then again, the morning after when he’d brought her coffee and a beautifully glazed apple turnover from the bakery he owned just down the block.

She’d thought, weeks back when they’d done their first stream together, that she couldn’t possibly be more interested in him than she already was. But then he’d been funny and kind and an eager learner in her stream, and then she’d received thank you flowers days later, and he’d agreed, while they did their laundry to do another stream. And she’d fallen in love with him in just a few weeks, she’d fallen in love with the way he was thankful even when she was the one who needed to thank him. She’d fallen in love with the way he offered to come back again and again and again because it had been good for her work, and the way he’d invited her to see his bakery because it was only fair to share as much of himself with her as she had with him. She fell in love with the way he could be quiet, but that his gestures and facial expressions could speak volumes, and she fell in love a little more each day.

“Due to popular demand,” he said, taking a moment to look over at her for confirmation as he’d become more comfortable talking on stream, but preferred to address her more than he did the camera, “I’m going to be playing a dating sim.”

There was a subset of her viewers who, instead of thirsting after Kristoff, had been dead set on getting them together. There were also those who assumed that they were, in fact, together, but the viewers she was enjoying most were the ones who actively attempted to get them to talk about their “chemistry” and “tension” on stream. They were lead by a user named SvenjaminButton and Anna decided that if she and Kristoff ever did get together, she was going to track him down and buy him dinner, because he rallied the troops in a spectacular way, getting people to request more Kristoff on the stream and giving Anna the excuse to see him.

The dating sim had also been his idea.

She loaded it up and laughed at the bad graphics, it was one of those one dollar steam games that someone just threw together from preexisting code and some drawings. She wasn’t expecting much from it, but Kristoff was playing along like a champ, and she was looking forward to talking to him after the stream ended about how silly it was.

His skills with games were improving over time, and this point and click was surely not going to cause him any challenge, but still she appreciated that his initial response to the game launching was to move closer to her, putting her into his space should he need any assistance. She liked to think that maybe he just wanted to be in her space anyway.

“I hope you find true love,” she teased, the stream already going wild.

“I think I already have.”

***

Kristoff was still kicking himself for what he’d said at the start of Anna’s stream as they were logging off. He was pretty sure that she thought he was just playing up a joke when he’d said the bit about already having found true love, but truthfully he wasn’t, and he felt adrift. He’d fallen for her, and he’d fallen hard. She was just so fun to be around, and she instantly had changed his perspective on games from being a waste of time to being something actively enjoyable. Half the fun was, of course, just being with her.  

“Thank you so much,” she said when the stream ended, leaning back in  her chair and practically tipping her head onto his shoulder as she did so, “You’ve really been so wonderful with all of this. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you enough for all the time you’ve been putting in.”

He smiled, happy that he’d been helpful to her, that she’d been happy to spend the time with him.

“You don’t have to thank me Anna. I’ve been enjoying myself. But… if I could maybe ask you something?”

This was the night. It had been Sven’s suggestion, and he still wasn’t sure of how he felt about it. He wasn’t exactly the kind of guy who made moves, but he’d never really had a cause to do so before. He could be bold in business, in work, in life, but in love? It was new for him.

“Of course Kristoff,” Anna replied, leaning her face towards his as she leaned back, bringing her face so close to his that all he would have to do was move a few inches to kiss her. That, he thought, was going to far, even if he desperately wanted to do so.

“Would you be interested in going out to dinner? Anytime you want, I know you’re busy, but I’d really like to take you out.”

She gave him a look of surprise and immediately he wondered if he’d just ruined everything.

He could feel the heat rising to his face, feeling like he’s just picked the wrong answer in the dating sim they’d been playing. He could practically see the little heartbreak icon popping up over her head, but then, he watched as she too flushed.

“Like… like on a date?”

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He raked a hand through his hair, trying to focus on something other than how close her lips were to his and how incredibly wrong this could all go in almost no time at all.

“Yes. Unless you’d prefer not, because I like being your friend and I don’t want to ruin that if you’re not interest…”

He didn’t finish his sentence, because Anna’s lips were on his and she was kissing him. Then as he leaned forward, he was kissing her and reaching out to bring her closer. He couldn’t catch his breath before she was climbing out of her chair and onto his, her thighs moving to the sides of his as she straddled him on the chair and kissed him until he was breathless.

His hands didn’t know where to go, but after a moment of them simply hovering, he let one wander along her sides, feeling her waist and her hip while the other brushed against her hair and rested against the back of her head.

She pressed herself into him and he held her close as they kissed harder and faster, lips becoming kiss swollen and wet as they explored together. He hadn’t ever really kissed anyone like he was kissing Anna, so he focused on the pleased sounds she made when he pulled her closer and kissed her harder.

“Can I take this as a yes?” he managed, when they broke for a moment to take a breath.

She was resting her head on his chest, her eyes, when they met his, were dark and pleased. She must have enjoyed the kiss as he had, and he was glad for it. What he’d started to say was true. He’d be happy to have her as a friend if that was all she wanted.

He felt like the luckiest man on earth that she’d wanted more.

“Tonight,” she said, “Take me for dinner tonight because I’ve been wanting this for months now. I don’t think I can wait.”

His heart raced as he thought about Anna, for months, wanting him as she did now.

“I don’t think I can either,” he admitted, letting his fingers card through her hair as he held her tight.

He didn’t know where he was going to take her yet, but he knew that wherever they went, the food would taste sweeter than it ever had before.

#kristannaadvent2020 #kristanna #frozen fanfiction #streamer! Anna #2010s AU #streamer AU

[skelanonymous]

Day 12 - Monsterfucking

Day 12 - Monsterfucking - Cherryberry

“Oh no.” Blue looked over at his boyfriend Red, currently panting from magical exhaustion but still forcing himself onward. He had to stop the encroaching feral creatures from the forest, Blue and Red agreeing to hold the line here until the others could fend off the main threat.

Blue could feel his limit too, but held back from pushing too hard or he’d...change.

All the skelebros had discovered back in their own universes that upon pushing too hard, pulling more than they had, they’d transform into gaster beasts, large skeleton creatures with wide hinged heads and long bony tails that left their bodies uncontrollable. They couldn’t turn back until their magic ran out again. Which considering they had to trap the beast so it couldn’t hurt people, it took DAYS.  

Since the convergence, it had happened to all of them at least once. Besides Red.

Red put in as much effort as the others, quite frequently in fact, but he never turned. Red often dealt with gaster beasts the best as well. He credited his brother making for a wily monster, difficult to trap even out of his mind. Blue, meanwhile, was pretty bad at catching them, so the prospect of facing Red that way was terrifying.

Red’s strength was waning, the shift crawling up his bones. The creatures diverted over to Blue. 

“Fuck!” Red reached out for him, but the transformation had started and he was powerless to stop it. Blue sent out a few waves of bones to keep them in check, but there were too many, Blue couldn’t summon the energy, and if they both lost it, this area would be decimated. Blue stumbled back into a tree.

“AHHH!” Blue covered his face and prayed, hiding his face behind his arms when he saw the horde leap at him.

“GRRRRRRAAAARRRRR!” A tail whipped the creatures back. The red beast pounced on the attackers, swiping with his claws, creating dust wherever he stomped. After a good frontal assault, the creatures retreated into the trees. Then the giant head swivelled around.

Blue froze under the gaze. It still had Red’s eyes. He wasn’t prepared for that.

“I love you, even if you kill me.” Blue didn’t bother to block, just hyperventilating as Red’s giant face creeped closer and closer. Red’s breath puffed into his face before he stopped, Blue kicking at the dirt to get as close to the tree as possible, finally turning his head and closing his eyes. Then he felt a lick across his skull.

Blue finally took in Red’s beastly body. It looked relaxed, casual. It dropped it’s head in Blue’s lap. It’s throat let out a low gravelly hum, eyes looking up at Blue’s face.

Blue hesitantly laid a hand on Red’s blaster skull, gently running a hand over all the scars that had elongated during the transformation. Red finished curling around him, his purring shaking Blue’s legs in little clattering sounds. Blue’s body almost crumpled as the fear left him. The adrenaline from his almost death, to thinking his boyfriend would eat him, to having a lap beast really took it out of a guy.

“So, are you in control or is it just the fact I’m your boyfriend?” 

Red eyes stared up at him, then tapped his tail on Blue’s face, sliding up his chin, a move Red did often with his hands when he had them.

“All you then.” Blue kissed Red’s nose. “Thanks for not eating me. No one would have suspected a thing.” He chuckled, Red huffing something similar to a laugh. Another lick, to his arm this time. “Gross!” Blue laughed though, dropping his arm in the snow.

Red picked up his head, facing into the woods. 

“What?” Blue stood up again when Red crouched down, moving into a pouncing position. Blue stood behind the curl of Red’s body. He peered into the darkness, snowy shadows as far as the eye could see, until he heard the crunch of snow.

“Red!” Blue fell on Red’s back when he whipped back. He clutched onto his hoodie, holding on for dear life while Red swiped at the intruders. Blue went to slide off, stopping at the sound from the trees.

THUMP

THUMP

THUMP

Why was something that big living here? A giant wolf rabbit hybrid stepped out the trees, all long sharp teeth and claws, but unusually fast. And it was looking straight at them.

Red growled and rolled his haunches. Blue laid forward on his back, securing himself quickly.

“Ready.”

Blue hend on tightly as Red skirted its legs. He snapped and bit at the thighs, earning a solid side swipe for the damage. Red barely managed to stop his body from crushing Blue. He sent a few sharp bones towards the eyes. The beast screeched.

It clawed at its face. It backed up into more claws, Red attacking wherever it left open, until it finally started to retreat. They needed to follow; if it went to the town square, it’d dust someone. Red bounded after it, hot on its heels until, in its pain and confusion, walked straight off a cliff.

“Oh no!” Blue clutched onto the Red for dear life.

Red managed to catch his claws in the monster, riding it down the steep snowy hill. He jumped off just before it hit the ground.

They tumbled off to the side, followed by a wave of dust.

Blue coughed, finally releasing his hold, fingers aching from how hard he’d forced them to hold on. When he finally stood up from the snow, he took a good look around.

They’d fallen off the edge of Snowdin. Steep rock faces stood between them and civilization. He looked over at Red, who’d made himself at home under a tree, unable to do much on his own. The red eyes followed Blue as he walked around the clearing they found themselves in, looking around for a climbable wall from here.

Nothing. Not a single way out, well, not for Blue. What did he have to work with?

“I can’t shortcut. I need you to get us out of this. You can’t change back until you’re out of magic.” Blue stated the facts, Red rolling his giant eyes, waiting for Blue to get to the point. “You can’t do direct magic in that form like the rest of us, I’m guessing.”

Red gave him an unimpressed look from where he curled underneath the tree.

“So we have to run you out of magic, preferably quickly, before the feral beasts of the forest go eat the town.”

Blue paced around.  What would burn a lot of magic unintentionally?

Well, he knew one thing. But...they were outside, and Red was...a gaster beast…

But they also didn’t have enormous amounts of time. A day would make a huge difference in how their siblings fared against the threat. And it could be worse, it could be not his boyfriend he was stuck with.

Blue’s face got real bright, but he did lift his shaking nervous hands to his neckerchief. Red’s head looked over. He started to his feet when Blue dropped the blue cloth in the snow, dropping off his gloves. Blue pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it off to the side. Red’s snout bumped against his chest after he kicked off the boots.

“Don’t make me explain…”Blue got to his pants, stopping and rubbing over Red’s nose. “Though I guess I’d have to help you undress too.” 

Red backed up, sitting on his hind legs, tilting his head to try and tell Blue he didn’t get it, but Blue just dropped his pants, avoiding eye contact, folding the clothes and putting them to the side. Red growled when Blue went to get his pants off. They got cold much slower than most monsters, but that didn’t mean Red wanted to have a cold ass if he could help it.

“Red, I really need you to let me take off your pants.”

Red grumbled in complaint, but let Blue do as he pleased. He didn’t sit after they were off. Blue folded them too. He didn’t want them to be ruined, they’d need them when Red shortcut them out of this mess.

“You do know what I’m trying to do, right?”

Red shook his massive head. Blue looked away shyly.

“I know we’ve never purposely burned magic this way, but usually you think of this kind of thing before me.” Blue hesitantly dropped his boxers, still not meeting Red’s face. “If you don’t get it by now, I’m not convinced you’re actually Red at all-ahhhhhh.” He felt a wet tongue across his sternum.

Red was nosing all up on him now. 

“That’s more like you. Hah, mweeeeeeeh.” Red’s tongue was longer like this, going from licking at his chest to licking inside his ribcage and pelvis. It was haphazard. Red had very little control, unable to do much more than stimulate broadly. 

Blue took a peek over at Red’s body. No ecto yet.

“I really hope this works, or you’ll never let me live this down.” Blue got down on his knees. He ran his fingers over the front of his pelvis, catching all the bumps and curves. Red kept nuzzling and licking, careful to not disturb Blue’s arm.

“What would you say to me right now?” Blue closed his eyes. It was hard to get in the mood, naked in the snow and nervous, so he had to work himself up. Red was always so confident in the bedroom. Blue was confident everywhere else.

“Look at you working yourself up for me.” He could almost hear Red whispering it in his ear. “Gunna summon me something tasty?”

Blue panted as his fingers worked his sensitive pelvic crests, other hand working his tailbone at the same time. He moaned and opened his eyes. Red’s ectobody had finally appeared, sporting a longer and thicker member than he was used to. Blue blushed hard at the thoughts of what was to come. His own ectobody summoned under his hands, but Red’s head pushed him.

Blue fell onto his hands and knees, Red’s thick tongue working its way into him immediately.

“Reeeeeed! AAAAAAAH, so forceful mmmmmmm.” Blue wiggled his hips in time with the sloppy licks Red ate him out with. He usually covered his mouth when he got this loud, but there was no one but the forest to hear him.

“J-just gotta have you every w-way I can sweetheart. Come on my t-t-tongue?” Blue stuttered out what he thought his boyfriend would say. Red rumbled approvingly.

Blue reached a hand between his legs, and with a few skilled strokes, he whined out a release.

Red’s tongue didn’t leave him though. Blue huffed through the overstimulation until Red was satisfied, snout finally backing up from Blue’s shaky thighs. Blue only relaxed for as long as it took Red to line up with his thoroughly prepped magic. 

“Red…”He felt a giant claw near his body move a little closer in acknowledgement. “The whole point of this is to burn as much magic as possible so…” Blue moved onto his elbows, pressing himself just slightly back on the tip. Blue hummed with Red’s growl, feeling Red’s body position itself for the storm to come.

“Don’t stop until you can’t go anymore.” 

That first slide shook Blue to the marrow. Even as wet and stretched as he was, it was girthier than a tongue and feeling Red’s whole body move with the motion rocked Blue’s smaller body. Red’s control could snap right in the middle of this, but hopefully he’d be having enough fun to not kill the source of said fun.

“MMMMMMMM.” Red’s thrust slammed into the back of his pussy, Blue’s position the only thing keeping him in place. 

Red’s pace gradually picked up, Blue focusing on the rhythm of it, gradually building up to rocking back at the right points to feel the limits of his body stretch deeper. His moans got louder and louder. The imaginary voice in his head supplied Red’s commentary.

“That’s it baby! Let me hear how much you enjoy hav-Ahhhh-having me in your p-pussy!” His boyfriend had a filthy mouth, but Blue had let him do a lot with that mouth of his, and now Blue needed to hear him, it just wasn’t the same without his deep gravelly voice leading him through. Blue’s knees dug deeper into the snow. “Such a tight c-c-c-” -Blue had to fight to say it- “cunt you’ve made for me.”

Red’s growls shook his body. Red started pounding into him so fast, Blue screamed for it, body on fire and pushed over the edge. Once he felt the shudder of Red’s cock inside him, he stroked himself once and was gone. 

Blue spasmed and moaned, riding the wave. Red briefly pulled out, letting out the excess magic Blue had inside his little body. 

He almost stopped shaking before the tongue was in him again.

“R-r-r-red…”Blue whined desperately. His overstimulated body protested but couldn’t stop his oversized boyfriend. The tongue cleaned him out completely, before he felt Red gearing up to mount him again.

“AHHHHHH!” Red filled him in one go, already stretched open and wet.

Blue’s nerve endings burned, pleasure singed with discomfort in every bone in his body. Red kept pushing in and out, desperately taking Blue’s magic for all it could physically take. And as overwhelmed as he felt, Blue had been the one to tell Red not to stop until Red physically couldn’t continue. 

Red was filling him again. His body stretched and ached, Blue squeaking out a happy sigh when Red pulled out after a few minutes of slow fucking through the pleasure.

And then the damn tongue again.

Blue’s eyes pricked with tears. He’d never been so physically pushed to his mental limit. His vision felt fuzzy, and he felt like if he moved from this spot, he’d pass out. His traitorous mouth let out moans while he cried out his feelings. There was that cock again.

Everything blurred together. Thrusting and licking, alternating for what could’ve been days but was definitely at least a few hours, nothing but overstimulation and being completely helpless to stop it. His mind had left him quite a few cycles ago, in a haze while his body took and took and took. Somewhere deep inside him, something broke, and when he felt that sinfully long tongue again, he leaned his hips back into it.

“God Red, get it all the way inside me!” He felt deranged, sounded worse. His mind had given up on stopping it, deciding to ride the wave, no, tsunami as it engulfed him as best it could.

The tongue responded vigorously. Red’s snout dug into the cheeks of his ectobody, Blue drooling messily as his head laid in his arms above the snow. Blue keened at it twisting and turning against his sensitive walls.

“More, more, more! Ruin my body, don’t stop until you can’t go anymore.”

Red didn’t do a gentle first thrust, immediately pounding into Blue’s body while he cried out for more. Blue’s soul was on fire. Every sensation in his whole body, every thought, was converging on a single moment, and when Red hit that brutal speed crescendo right before his release, Blue touched his over sensitive pussy.

“FUCK!” All of senses exploded, his mind slipped briefly into a serene peace, the eye of the storm, and with one ultimate burst of pleasure, his mind and body blipped off.

----

“I’m surprised he got this exhausted without transforming.” Blue’s mind came to slowly, fluttering awake to a familiar ceiling. This was his room. His entire body ached, bringing back the memory of what put him into this state to begin with.

“Me too. He scared the hell outta me.” That was Red’s voice. Blue’s hand reached out for it without thinking. He felt Red’s hand take his instantly. “Blue?”

“I think so.” Blue chuckled, then coughed. Everything hurt.

“Thank goodness. We were worried sick.” He could hear his brother, but opening his eyes again seemed like a hassle. “Red and you vanished, but Red got you both back after a day. He’d been keeping you safe in the forest while you were unconscious.” So that’s what they were going with.

“Sorry for missing out on the fighting.” Blue hummed at Red gently rubbing his hand.

“Red came back just in time honestly. With his help, we got everything under control at the last moment. It all worked out.” His bro pat his head, but Blue winced. It still ached. “Sorry.”

“It’s all good Papy. I’ll be okay with a bit more rest. I’ll take a page from you and Red and be a lazybones for a while.” 

“Good.” Swap stood up, cracking his back. “Now that you’ve woken up at least once, I can go back to business. I’ll leave you with Red until you go back to sleep.” He smiled at Blue. “Don’t push it. Go back to bed. Love ya bro.”

“Love you too Papy.” Swap walked out, and Red let out a breath Blue hadn’t noticed he was holding.

“Why were you so nervous?” Blue smiled at him fondly. Red blushed for once.

“Blue, you were out for two days. I thought I put you in a coma, I at the very least hurt you pretty badly.” Red hunched in on himself. “So much for self control.” Blue squeezed the hand that held his.

“I didn’t exactly help. Not to mention, that’s never happened to anyone else, so now we know what’ll happen.” Blue gently tugged Red’s arm, scooting back a little. Red obliged his hurt boyfriend and climbed in.

“Doesn’t make it okay.” Red gently leaned their foreheads together. “Hurting you isn’t something I should ever do.” Blue clanked his mouth. The ache in his pelvis brought back memories to make him blush.

“I...liked it…”Blue averted his eyes, but they were so close that he could still see the look on Red’s face.

“You...liked it?” He looked confused, then surprised.

“Yeah.” Blue looked back at him, cheeks glowing. “I wouldn’t mind...doing that again...on purpose…”He could barely get the words out. His mind flashed to him begging for Red to have sex with him as a gaster beast, and he glowed brighter. Red laughed, eyes getting half lidded and his voice dropping down to that deep tone that set him off so much.

“Just gotta have you every way I can sweetheart.” Then he stuck out his tongue with a smirk, laughing while Blue buried his face right into Red’s jacket. Blue felt two arms pull him close. “You do a pretty good impression of me.”

“I hate you.” Blue pouted, not moving away from Red at all.

“Well I love you.” Red hummed into the little kiss he got in exchange.

#cherryberry #kinktober #undertail #overstimulation #story time

[maybebanks]

You Know I’m a Minor Chapter 08

Chapter 01

Previous Chapter 07

catch up summary: you had become one of the Pogues from when you first met JJ in a jail cell. Your blackmailing situation with Ward seems to be over. But now that JJ and the pogues know about your secret, how will another messy life be handled?

It wasn’t easy. Nothing ever was. Except surfing, and other basic things like breathing.

JJ was trying to support you, but there was some degree that felt betrayed. You could have told him.

This morning, JJ took you to the bathroom to talk. He didn’t say much.

“Can you...can you take off your shirt for me?” JJ asked.

You gave him a weird look, but you knew what he meant, he wanted to see the damage.

“No, JJ, it’s ugly,” you paused, ready to move past him and leave the bathroom.

His hand met your chest, pausing you, pushing you back.

You couldn’t look him in the eye, you didn’t want to see pity. You wanted to be normal.

“I’m ugly,” you convince.

JJ grabs your cheeks gently, he moves your face up to meet his eyes. His own eyes were watering.

“Don’t you ever say that. You are not what he did to you,”

You didn’t know what to say after that, and moments later you just let JJ take control, he fumbled with the hem of your t-shirt before asking for an ‘okay’ with his eyes.

He pulled it above your head and your arms folded over your chest to cover your bra.

JJ’s fingers traced the bruises along your torso, his silver rings were a unique feeling you’ve never felt, causing shivers down your spine.

He moved towards your back, large prints were all revealed to him. JJ didn’t want to scare you by getting angry, and to him, getting angry was a way to fill in a gaping hole of sadness.

“Jesus,” he whispers to himself.

He was sad. Sad for you, that anyone would hurt someone as sweet and carefree as you.

JJs had moved skillfully along your back, you could get lost in his touch, if you weren’t careful.

His hand accidentally moves over your bra clasp, quickly you turn around, putting your walls up yet again.

“It wasn’t like there’s anything you could have done,” you tell him.

JJ scoffs, “Why don’t you say what you really mean? Huh? That you’re mad I found out. That you’re mad I wanna help you,”

“You can’t help me!”

JJ runs his hands through his hair and turns the other way. He inhales a sharp breath. At this point, you were both out of the bathroom.

“I’ve been through it, Y/n. I know what it’s like,”

“I know. I know you do. But...” you get guilty saying it to him, but you thought it was the truth, “you’re still living it. How can I ask you for help, when you have your own problem?!”

“You wouldn’t have had to go home. You could’ve stayed here with us,” JJ adds.

“You are so delusional, JJ! My situation is nowhere near similar to yours! I made the right decision,” There it was, you were angry again, angry at his hopeful attempts.

“So you’re saying you don’t regret it? Y/n, he hurt you. His daughter,”

“I’m not defending him! I’m just saying he had a reason,”

“Are you seriously going to tell me that you think what he did was okay?!”

He was yelling. At you. Sure you’ve seen him yell before, but when you were being scolded, you saw powerful him, and worthless you.

You stumbled on some clutter on the floor and landed on your side. Ignoring the pain you scrambled up, JJ was standing over you.

“Do-don’t,” you whimpered. This was a scene that continued to replay. Your father stood over you, he would crouch down, then throw the punches. Maybe a kick with his boots.

JJ was frozen, his muscles were stuck and his brain was screaming. JJ didn’t want to be his father, he didn’t want to make you quiver before him.

Your hands were infront of your face. But you were slowly getting up. By now, there was no going back at the severity of the problem.

When JJ didn’t move, reality swept in.

“I wouldn’t hit you, Y/n,” JJ muttered, softly. He was struggling, maybe to fight back tears. He had the same look on his face when he pulled a gun to his fathers head.

The scene before him was tearing him apart.

THUD.

JJ shook his head in disbelief when the door rattled with nocking. (It was the next morning after the camp fire last chapter) John B was out with Sarah, and Pope and Kie where prepping for midsummers.

You propped yourself up with your arms, confused but also afraid.

“It’s okay. It’s probably just Rafe looking for Sarah,” JJ guessed. He stepped towards the door and opened it, it wasn’t Rafe.

“Sheriff,” JJ smiled, “what can I do for you,”

JJ was good at quick personality changes, he wasn’t fake, it was genuine, but he was covering up his emotions.

Sheriff Peterkin invited herself in. She was alone, probably here for-

“Is John B here? DCS called me,” she asked, she moved passed JJ despite his wishes to keep her out on the porch.

She was poking around, when she saw you, still on the floor.

“My...” she trailed off at the sight. You were still without a shirt, covering your bruises with your arms only made it worse.

She walked over to you and helped you up.

“Um hi ma’am,” you say.

“Darling, what’s going on?” She asks, her head turns to face JJ, he rubs his arm nervously.

Thinking fast, he finds a shirt on the counter, it was John B’s button up. He helps wrap it around you.

“JJ, son-“

“It’s not what you think, Peterkin. Y/n fell on her surf board, she’s alright though. She’s a tough one,”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with your fighting just now, would it?” Peterkin asks, a suspicious tone in her voice.

JJ starts to defend you again, “Were you spying-“

“No, sheriff. This is from surfing, I promise. But I did get a few bruises from the fight on figure eight a few days back, kooks don’t care who they hurt,” you invent, sure it was party true, but most kooks you know wouldn’t hit a girl.

“Was it Rafe and his boys? They’ve been called in for multiple charges,” Sheriff Peterkin mutters.

“Have John B call me when he gets back,”

Peterkin exits as quickly as she came. JJ was stunned. You were barely holding it in, your felt yourself shake, in fear.

JJ noticed right away and sighed, pulling you into his chest for a hug.

“Please Y/n. I just need you to know, that I would never hurt you. I don’t want you to be scared of me,”

Your fists were filled with his shirt, you were holding tight, like you would fall.

“I believe you.”

—

JJ took you out, to distract from the chaos that was happening. It felt weird to be a exposed to him now. There was a part of you that hated it, the pity. But JJ was more protective than anything. Your hand hadn’t left his.

“Do you think they hate me?” You asked, sitting on a bench, alone with JJ, on some street on the Cut.

“Sarah, maybe. But the pogues, no way. They gotta understand,”

“But..I lied. I don’t regret it. But I do feel guilty now that they know. God, I wish this bullshit wasn’t happening,” you sigh.

“I second that,” JJ scoffed, he had a blunt between his fingers.

—-

You apologized to thme pogues, but they all understood. You shouldn’t have to be sorry. It was just your instincts.

There were little things that the pogues could do to help you, and that was all that mattered.

But, soon after Kiara invited you for a sleepover, your father found out and took you home.

Home sweet home.

That night, you got into a fight about your new friends. He made up some bullshit about him loving you.

“I’m the only one you need! God damn it! Aren’t I good fucking enough! Friends are dangerous,” he seethed, there was no convincing him that he was wrong.

“They love me. They treat me better,” you rebuke, you knew that standing up like this would just earn yourself a beating, but at this point you didn’t mind.

“You think they love you! They’d drop you once they see how bruised you are! All those boys only want you for sexual things. You don’t know the world like I do, don’t be a little bitch and listen to me, because I love you,”

“You? You haven’t loved me since Mom died!” The words just spilled out of your mouth. You squinted you’re eyes shut. Prepared for a blow.

Nothing.

Your father just stared at you. You always told yourself that they’re was some good left in him. But up until now, you thought that disappeared with the 10th beating.

He sighed, grabbing the nearest beer and talking a swig. He moved towards the couch and sat down.

You were about to retreat to your bedroom, when you heard him whisper one last thing.

“You’re just like your mother,”

—

You tugged against your grey zip up, it was just randomly lying on the floor, but you needed something to cover up. JJ was giving you a ride to the Wreck, and he had already honked twice.

“Shut up!” you screamed as you stumbled off the steps of your shitty screen door. Sure it was dangerous to let JJ know the location of your house, but you made him promise not to go inside or even within eyeshot.

The corners of JJs lips turned upwards into a smirk, you were trying to comb your hair with your fingers. You also adjusted your clothes and tried to look as best you could for work.

“Hit it, unless this is a Tesla that can drive its frickin self,” you demanded.

JJ laughed, “please Y/n, we spent all our money on that mansion we call home,”

You slapped his leg, and he took the signal to start the car and drive down the road.

After a while, you began to notice a cop SUV tailing the van, you froze.

“JJ,” you asked, by the tone of your voice, JJ could hear your nerves.

“We’re being followed,” your explained.

“What? Shit!” JJ muttered, as he turned his head to look back.

“Don’t fricking look!” You demanded, pushing his cheeks back on the road.

“Did you do something?” You asked, hoping for reassurance that there wasn’t some other reason.

“Who me? Golden boy? Nah,” JJ jokes, continuing to drive.

“JJ this is serious, take the next left,” you order.

“Relax Y/n, I know how to deal with this-“

“Drive faster!” you cut him off when you notice they are gaining.

JJ pushes the gas petal to what feels like 50mph. He begins pass the intersection when you shout at him.

“The left!!”

Instantly, JJ swerves the car, turning the wheel harshly. His arm moves over your chest, protecting you.

When he finally gains control, he pulls over into one of his friends driveways.

“Shit, I’m sorry Y/n,” he apologizes.

Your heart was pounding, you could practically feel the wheels about to turn over to it’s side. Could you have been in a car crash.

“I-..” you shouldn’t be mad at JJ, but you just wanted to run away.

You opened the door to the car and prepared to get out.

“Y/n! Wait! I’m sorry, are you hurt? What’s wrong? C’mon,”

“I’m fine!” you shout back, walking out on the sidewalk.

JJ didn’t think he deserved all the blame, but for some reason, you were in general, being mad.

“Did something happen last night?”

“I’m just...in a weird place right now,” you looked at him, his concern for you made your stomach drop.

JJ takes a slow step towards you, “is this about your dad? Or-“

“It’s about..um you,” you admit, looking down.

“I said I was sorry-“

“No. Not about the car. I think...” you paused, it felt weird admitting you loved a guy, your heart was throbbing, telling you to keep it a secret, “I really care about you, and I..um..I feel-“

You cut yourself off when the sirens of a cop car invade your sight.

A man hops out of the SUV and approaches the two of you. Involuntary you step closer to JJ, he gently pushes you behind him.

“What can I do for you officer?” JJ asks politely.

“Mind if I inspect the vehicle,” he asks, it was like a retohrical question.

“What uh...what are you hoping to might find?” you ask, worried.

JJ shushes you, making you feel guilty.

“Well ma’am, I don’t know if you know, but your friend Routledge has been extensively breakin the law, just checking if he might be here. This is the vehicle he drives...”

“What law?” you ask curiously.

The officer sighs, “John B’s current residence is about to be pulled, he is underage with no parentals,”

You glance at JJ with fear, they can’t take away his house.

JJ gives you a comforting look and reaches for your hand, your fingers intertwining with his.

“Well, he’s not here. But when you see him, tell him to come down to the station. He already escaped from DCS once...” the officer grumbled.

Eventually, when his car was gone. You jumped towards JJ in a hug.

“They can’t do that! John B is fine on his own! I’d rather been on my own for fucks sake!” your shouts are muffled in JJ’s shirt.

JJ traces fingers on your back and plays with some braids in your hair.

“Hey hey hey, it’ll be fine. We’ll figure it out,” JJ says, not sure he even could convince himself.

—

Chapter 09

Taglist: @p0gue420 @kristinaxilliano @belledutchess @maebanks @omgpankow @kaylinfayezink @dolanfivsosxox @thesurfingsnail @obsessedweirdo @dudebroskiprn @milked-down-coffee @jjsthumbring @retr0babey @traumaflavouredjuulpod @write-from-the-heart @justcallmesams @popcrone818 sorry if I missed u on the tags!

Do you think JJ loves Y/n as more than a friend? Comment🤍

#jj maybank #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #outer banks #obx netflix #jj imagine jjxreader obx #obx jj #obx jj maybank x you #outerbanks #jj outer banks #rudy pankow #luke maybank #obxedit #outerbanks fanfic #jj maybank x female reader #jj maybank x y/n #jjmaybank love #pogue life #outerbanks imagine

[that-freaky-mysterious-one]

Roll Some Mo'

Summary: Bucky Barnes x Black! Fem! Reader, When you and Sam learn of Bucky's night terrors, you two come up with a solution to his problem. What you two don't know, however, is that will create more problems than initially meant.

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, and your beautiful self! <3

A/N: mentions and use of marijuana, slight swearing, this is my first fanfic, let me know your thoughts! :D

It was a little known fact that you smoked weed. The earthy, floral scent when it was fresh out the bag? You loved it. Tricks such as the Ghost and French Inhale? Mastered with ease. Not to mention all the afternoons spent bonding with Sam over funny stories about each other's lives. That's wasn't the main reason why you smoked it, though.

You had really bad menstrual cramps. You'd always had painful cramps, but as you got older, they seemed to get worse. So bad, you got sick and had to miss out on some missions, and there was no time for that. So when your best friend Sam took you to a doctor to get a weed card and to a dispensary one day, you had finally found a solution that worked. Though you used medical marijuana with CBD in it, you'd occassionally buy goodies with THC in it, so y'all got high and did all the fun stuff.

It was just you, Sam, and some cannabis against the world.

That's when Bucky crash landed into your lives. He was a bit rough around the edges and closed off to most, but once you sat down with him and got to know him, he revealed himself to be shy and sweet. He was so adorable!

You two had hit it off right away! He was such a sweetheart, and you just adored his innocence and sense of humor.

Then, he told you about his anxiety, and how Hydra had abused him. He told you about the night terrors he'd have, and how he'd never get a good night's rest.

That's when you got the idea to add him to your, as Sam called it, "Avengers Weed Fanclub," circle. You figured this would give him a chance to open up to you and Sam, and hopefully, sleep better at night. You wanted to let him know you truly were there for him.

So that night, after getting him a card and buying various products at your favorite dispensary, you sat him and Sam down on your bedroom floor, and taught him all you knew about cannabis, from how to roll a joint to how much of an edible to eat at a time.

"So, do you want to try some tonight before you go to sleep?" you asked Bucky, hoping he'd be open to this.

"Hell yeah," he exclaimed, making all three of us laugh at his enthusiasm. "Can I try the THC stuff, though? Just to know how it feels."

"My man," Sam said, giving Bucky a high five. "(Y/N), can you open some RAWs real quick while I grind these for Buck?"

"Of course," you say, as Bucky looks between you two, watching Sam open a bag of flowers and load the grinder with them, then to you folding your papers, then back to Sam twisting the cap back and forth, and finally, to him handing you the grinded buds to pack into the paper. He was totally lost.

He watched intently as you used your fingertips to pack the paper. You were tedious with your work, just to make sure every joint you made hit just right.

"Bruh, hurry up, it doesn't take that long to roll a joint." Sam said, obviously joking, but wanting to start smoking.

"Don't rush me, I'm not about to have an ugly lookin' joint that doesn't hit. My joint always look cute and always hit." You responded, earning an eyeroll from Sam and a chuckle from Bucky.

Finally, you added a filter and began to twist the paper closed in between your fingers. When you concentrated really hard, your eyebrows furrowed, your nostrils flared a little, and your lips did the cutest little pout. Bucky was intrigued by this, and he didn't know why, but he was just so drawn to your lips. Maybe it was the way your lip gloss made your lips pop.

But you were just friends. It was just a little crush, and he enjoyed being you friend. He didn't wanna ruin that.

It was after you pulled the final piece of paper closed and exclaimed "Alright, looks good," with that genuine smile that he loved that he snapped out of these thoughts and reached for the joint , careful not to ruin your "masterpiece".

"Have you ever smoked a cigarette before?" Sam asked him, wondering if he had to teach another person how inhale without them coughing a lung up.

"Yeah, I used to all the time," he said, putting the joint between his lips. "Mind giving me a light?"

You put a towel under the door, flicked the lighter with your thumb, and brought the flame up to his joint. You looked up and locked eyes with him, both of you holding each other's gaze. You weren't gonna lie, he was handsome. It was just so easy to love him.

You were just friends, though, and you didn't want to ruin that. You enjoyed his company, and you didn't want to scare him off with your feelings.

He inhaled deep, held the smoke in his mouth, and exhaled forcefully, coughing a little as he did so. All you and Sam could was give each other a look and chuckle to yourselves.

After a couple more hits, all he could muster up was, "Delicious," in a low, husky voice with a smirk on his face. You and Sam bust out laughing, because you knew it was already starting to kick in.

-------------------------------------------------------

After a couple of hours of smoking more joints, talking about Steve's hilarious past behind his back, playing UNO, and having a genuinely good time, Bucky said "I'm tired,", followed by him yawning.

"Yeah, it is pretty late," said Sam, yawning as well. "We should probably go to sleep."

You got high, but you never really had the symptoms of it. The red eyes, poor muscle coordination, none of it. You just became goofy as hell. You did get the munchies sometimes, though.

These two, however, looked burnt as hell. Both of them were slumped up against your bed, with red and droopy eyes. They were fighting sleep and were currently sharing their third bag of chips.

"Alright, well, 'night guys," you said to both of them, getting up to light a Nag Champa. You loved how fresh weed smelled, but after it was burnt, totally different story. So you used the incense to rid your room of the smell.

"'Night," they said in unison, both tripping over each other a couple of times before actually making it out your room, leaving you rolling around on the floor laughing.

Finally, you gathered the strength to get back up. After a couple of minutes of watching T.V., you blew out your incense, changed into a t-shirt, and climbed into bed, letting sleep consume you.

---------------------4 hours later-------------------

Your eyes blinked a couple of times, trying to adjust to the darkness of your room. Usually, when you woke up in the middle of the night, you had a certain gut feeling, and it was never good. Something just told you to check on Bucky. Just to make sure he was okay and still asleep.

So, you got up, put on a robe and some slippers, and walked to Bucky's room.

"Bucky," you whispered into the dark room, earning no response. "Bucky, you okay?"

You pushed the door open a crack, just to look in to see if he was asleep, but you saw nothing.

"Bucky?" you called out, walking into his room, turning on his lamp, and looking around, only to find nothing.

"Damn it," you whispered to yourself. Now you had a man who had never been high before running around the Avengers Facility.

"Bucky," you called out softly. You were starting to worry where Bucky was. He was supposed to be asleep, not be wandering around the facility. What if he left the facility? What if he hurt himself? "Bucky," you called out a little louder. "Bucky, where are you?"

"Dude, shut up. I'm trying to sleep," Sam said groggily, rubbing his eyes as he left his room to see what you were up for. "What are you going on about, anyway?"

"Bucky's missing."

"WHAT?"

"Shhhhh, I don't want to wake anyone else."

"Oh, so you can wake me up at 3 a.m., but everyone else is supposed to be able to sleep?"

"Can you help me find him?"

"No, I'm goin' back to sleep."

"Please?"

"Uh-uh."

"Sam, I'm begging you," you said, tears starting to prick your eyes from the worry taking over you. "Please."

He took a long look at you, rolled his eyes, released a dramatic sigh, and muttered a "Fine." This earned him a tight hug and multiple rushed "thank you's" from you.

"Yeah, yeah whatever," he said, patting you on the back. "Okay, you can stop now. If we don't find him, I'm takin' my black ass back to bed."

You guys looked everywhere. Well, maybe not everywhere. The facility was big as hell, and there was no way in hell you were going to search the whole base. You did, however, look everywhere you two thought he would be.

You searched the gym, the firing range, the lounge, etc. It wasn't until you went into the kitchen that found quite an interesting sight.

Did you find Bucky? Yes. How you'd found him? Well, let's just say when you two found him, surprised was an understatement.

Bucky was sitting on top of the refrigerator, eyes bloodshot, with the most blank expression, eating Sam's box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. He was so fried!

" Oh, hey guys," Bucky slurred out. "How you doin'?"

"Bucky, how the hell did you get on top of the refrigerator?" Sam asked, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head.

"It's kinda complicated."

"AND ARE YOU EATING MY CINNAMON TOAST CRUNCH?"

"Dude, chill. I'll buy you more in the morning."

"Sam, can you just help me get him down?" you somewhat whined back at Sam. You just wanted to get Bucky back to sleep so that you could do the same.

"Please come down, Bucky" you said, reaching your hands out for him like an infant wanting to be picked up.

"NO!" he shouted, frowning like a toddler and folding his arms over his chest in pure childishness.

It took awhile for you to get him down. With Sam arguing with Bucky on whether he should take his weed, and Bucky just being plain stubborn at this point, you didn't make any progress for awhile. You decided to insert yourself, telling Sam you'd take care of it and to just go back to sleep.

"Don't have to tell me twice. Good luck," with that, Sam was gone, allowing you to focus on getting Bucky down.

"Bucky, it's 3 a.m., how and why are you on top of the refridgerator?"

"I woke up in the middle of the night hungry, so I came down here and Sam's cereal was the one thing in sight, so I used the counter as a stepping stool to get to the top of the fridge, and since then, I've just been chillin' up here."

"Okay, can you please just come down, now?"

"Well, since you asked so nicely," he said with a smirk. "Yes, yes I will."

Bucky proceeds to somehow hop off the fridge, onto the counter, and finally, onto the ground before almost tripping. If you hadn't been there to catch him, he would've fallen on his face.

"Thank you," he mumbled into your shoulder.

"No problem. Now, let's get you back to bed."

Once you finally got back to the sleeping quarters, you bring Bucky back to his room, make sure he's situated, and then leave to return to your to room. You then notice as your walking down the hallway, you hear footsteps that don't quite match your own.

"Bucky, you have to STAY in bed to go back to sleep," you said not even turning around. You didn't even have to turn around to know it was him. He was the only still up aside from yourself, not to mention he was the only one still high.

"But I'm not tired."

"But I am, so you have to go to sleep."

"But I'm lonesome."

"When you're asleep, you won't have to worry about that."

"But I-"

"No more 'buts', just go to sleep."

"Can I just hang out in you room? Just until I get sleepy."

"Yeah, fine, whatever, just don't try to stay up all night, because I want to go to sleep."

"Yea! Thank you," he exclaimed, hugging you from behind and shaking his hair in your face.

"Shhhhh, you ain't about to be hollerin' all night, especially in my room."

"Okay, sorry"

You walked him by the arm back to your room, hoping he'd fall asleep as soon as you got him in.

"Okay Bucky, just, you know, fall asleep," you said, easing him onto the foot of the bed.

"Okay," he responded in a small, sheepish voice.

You leave to go use the bathroom one more time and get comfortable before you go back to bed, come back, and find him going through your edibles.

"Bucky, no!"

"Why do you have food on a shelf?"

"Those are edibles, and to hide them from nosey-roseys like you!"

"You should share these, man. They're delicious."

You paused for a good minute, inhaled deeply, approached Bucky, and said "Bucky, did you eat any of those?"

"Just a little piece, about a pinch." He said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Okay, just go lay down while I clean this up," you said, slightly agitated.

As you're cleaning, you hear Bucky whisper a husky "Damn, doll" under his breath. You forgot you had taken off your robe, leaving you in nothing but your panties and a t-shirt.

"Bucky, you're supposed to be sleeping, or at least trying to, not watching me."

"But you're so beautiful, especially without all that clunky junk you wear on missions."

"You think so," you say, laying on your stomach next to where he was sitting.

"I know so," he says, looking you in the eyes with his blood-shot, blue eyes.

"Nah, I think you're just high," you say laughing his "compliment" off.

"No, I mean it, really. You're a very beautiful woman," he says leaning back, laying his head on your butt.

"You just like looking at my booty!"

"Maybe I do. It is quite nice. It's like a pillow," he said chuckling under his breath.

"Are you gonna fall asleep like this?"

"Only if you'll let me," he says, looking up at you with his chin still on your butt.

"Bucky....get under the covers, you silly goose."

"Okay," he said as you both giggled at his actions.

You and Bucky got under the covers together and watched "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air" reruns all night, or morning, long until you felt something laying on your bosom and you heard light snoring. You looked down to see Bucky had fallen asleep, and you were happy to see him finally sleeping, peacefully at that.

With that, you turned off the T.V., cradled Bucky's head to your chest, kissed his forehead, and whispered, "Goodnight, Bucky," to him, only earning a low rumble in return. Though Bucky may not remember it, this was one of the best nights of your life.

#bucky x you #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky x black!reader #sam wilson #blackgirlmagic #black reader #marijuana #medical marijuanna #bucky barnes x reader #steve rodgers #avengers #avengers fanfiction #avengers fandom #marvel #disney

[caranfindel]

Initial reaction 15.14: Last Holiday

Well, friends, here we go. Are you ready?

(I'm not. But here we go anyway.)

THEN: Cuthbert Sinclair. (Really? That's a deep cut.) Abbadon. Larry Ganem. (And S8 Sam, who is fucking gorgeous.) Oh, and God and Jack and all that stuff, in case you forgot.

NOW: Sam's in the library, doing research, and is distracted by some ominous noises. Ominous in a machinery-breaking-down kind of way, not in a monstery kind of way. Enter Dean, wearing an apron. "What's with the apron," asks Sam, "because it's only protecting your jeans, not the Red Shirt of Bad Decisions." At least that's how it sounded in my head. I mean, who only gets dirty from the waist down when they're cooking? (Well, that lends itself to all kinds of double entendres, doesn't it?) Or maybe Sam doesn't say that because he hopes the RSoBD will be destroyed in a tragic burger accident.

Seriously, Dean, that shirt is precious and you need to protect it, no matter what Sam thinks.

Dean complains that the pilot light keeps going out, and the hot water is unsatisfactory (and we know how he feels about his showers), and Sam reminds him that if the bunker was ever state-of-the-art, it was in the 50s. They exposition for us that Jack is hiding in his room. "Can you blame him?" Sam says. "His soul is back. Everything is hitting him. Everything he's done..." And Sam continues, but I'm sorry, I'm stuck here, thinking about re-souled Sam with everything hitting him. {sob} However, neither of the Winchesters seem to be thinking about this, so. Carry on.

The guys remind us that if Jack kills God, he'll have to kill Amara as well. Which I assume means Amara isn't going to get killed? Just saying. As much as I talk about foreshadowing (too much, please stop!) this show teases us with anti-foreshadowing with equal fervor. And Cas is apparently looking for Amara? What does he hope to accomplish? "Excuse me, but we're killing your brother, so you have to die too. Condolences. But if we follow canon - not that there's any reason to assume we will - you have to die at about the same time. So I need you to come with me while we figure out where he is and how to kill him."

There's another ominous noise, and Dean says "Oh, come on. Now the air?" I hope he means the air conditioning, and not the air purifying/exchange/whatever that Ketch shut off when he locked them in the bunker back in... whatever the BMoL season was. Hey, remember when the guys were locked in the bunker and they were running out of air and they wore single layers and goggles and got all sweaty and depressed? Because I've kind of never gotten over it. But I digress.

Sam is surprised that Dean expects them to fix it. "We've fought the devil," Dean says. "I've killed Hitler. I think we can handle a few old pipes." Surely this isn't the first time they've had to do some repairs around the place.

Deep within the bowels of the bunker, Sam reads some ancient instructions and complains that they can't just call a plumber. Dean refers to the bunker as the most "secretive, secure supernatural hideout in the world," which makes me laugh, because remember when Larry Ganem told Sam it was secure against all manner of evil? What a joke. Is there anything or anyone evil who hasn't been able to get into the bunker? My house is more secure against evil than the bunker, and all I have for protection is a circle of termite bait and a couple of ancient dogs.

They locate the "bunker grid control center thing thingy" (oh Sam, I adore you), complete with reset and standby buttons. Standby is glowing. Dean hypothesizes that it will work just like his computer, which needs to be shut down when it gets too many popups (I suspect you need some virus protection, dear boy), and slams down the reset button before Sam can stop him. Everything goes dark, but then starts up again, so Dean considers it a success. He calls himself "Meat Man" again and heads upstairs to finish cooking his burgers.

Time jump. Dean goes into his room, carrying a burger and a beer, and is astonished to find a middle-aged woman there. She's wearing a plaid wool skirt I owned in the 80s and is folding his underwear. "Oh, hello dear!" she says cheerfully. Dean yells for Sam.

Gosh, Dean, it's like this place isn't secretive or secure at all.

The horrified Shaggy and Scooby boxers are ~chef's kiss.~ Well done, someone.

Title card!

Library. The woman tuts at dust and wonders how they've lived in "this filth," which reminds me of an awesome Tumblr post which theorizes that faeries actually keep the bunker clean, and only first-born son Dean can see them. "Lady, who the hell are you," Dean demands, and is chastized for his language. He calls for Sam again, and gives him the story of how he walked into his room and found her "folding my underthings."

She explains that her actual name is indecipherable in "your tongue," but "Mr. Ganem called me _Mrs. Butters."_She's a wood nymph. And she's not in the woods, nymphing (thank you Dean) because she has more important things to do - she lives in the bunker and takes care of the Men of Letters. I.e., "my boys. My family."

Dean invites her to leave, but this is her home, and she's been here since "before the war." And she thinks it's 1958. "Well, I hate to tell you," Dean says, "but it's 2020." YES, DEAN, WE ALL FEEL THAT WAY ABOUT 2020. Mrs. Butters is horrified to learn all her boys are dead. And for some reason Dean tells her they were murdered by a demon instead of saying old age, or they went to a farm upstate, or whatever. She spots a photo of the last group of MoL, which we've never noticed before, and realizes that this is why they never came back from that last ceremony. When they didn't return, she decided to put the bunker - and herself - in standby mode.

But she also realizes that if these boys are like those boys, it's been a while since they had a home-cooked meal or celebrated a holiday. Or washed their clothes, as she makes a face. That's uncalled for, lady. We all know that Sam Winchester smells like rosemary and mint no matter how long it's been since he did laundry. Sam explains that they're not really "holiday people," which rings true coming from the guy who didn't want to celebrate Christmas and hates Halloween. (And only had one real Thanksgiving in his life and his brother still holds that against him but NO I'M NOT BITTER.)

Dean is more interested in what "standby mode" is. Mrs. Butters says the MoL used her magic to give the bunker "extra oomph," and snaps her fingers. Voila, extra oomph! There's some humming noises, the telescope alcove lights up (!), and an alarm sounds. Because the map table is actually a monster radar, and it indicates a nest of vampires 50 miles away. And gives the address. WELL.

{Sidebar: Why didn't the BMoL know the AMoL had this capability? Why was their focus on "you're not as good as us" instead of "you used to be as good as us; what happened?" Discuss.}

Do I care? No. Because look at these precious perplexed faces.

Dean's ready to go (and it earns him another stern warning about his language), but Sam wonders if they can trust her. "Look at her," Dean says. And I agree. She's a dumpy middle aged woman in a brown plaid wool skirt. She's basically me. And who could be more trustworthy, more concerned with the Winchesters' health and safety, than me?

Um. Anyway.

Not to change the subject or anything, but the pretty is strong tonight, y'all.

Dean suggests they give her the benefit of the doubt, and if it turns out she's not what she says she is, "then we deal with it." The music turns ominous. "What about Jack?" Sam asks.

Oh, Jack is actually in this episode? I thought maybe they were explaining his absence earlier, like they always do with Cas. (Because I always cover the guest star credits on first watch. Spoilers.) But it turns out Jack is actually with us tonight. Sitting on his bed, looking depressed. Dean knocks on his door and tells him they're going out, and there's a "probably harmless" guest making snickerdoodles. This sparks Jack's interest. It would work on me, too. I love snickerdoodles.

Impala. Sam's not sure it's a good idea to keep Mrs. Butters around, even if she is legit. He's concerned about Jack, but Dean brushes him off.

He'll be fine. I mean, I've been through worse and look at me. I'm the picture of health.

Ignoring your trauma doesn't make you healthy.

Sure it does.

Oh, Sam. Just listen to yourself. No, I mean, please. Listen to yourself.

Sam feels like Jack is hiding something, and I wish there were someone around who had also done awful things while un-souled, and remembered what it felt like to deal with that afterward. Someone sympathetic and empathetic. With soft puppy dog eyes and beautiful hair. Oh well. I guess Jack will just have to go unburden himself onto whoever he comes across.

Bunker. Mrs. Butters brings Jack a sandwich. He doesn't open the door, but she leaves it for him.

Vampire nest. A couple of vampires are watching Dark Shadows (so meta!) and drinking blood stolen from a blood bank. So, are these, like, maybe not bad vampires? Maybe they don't kill people? We'll never know, because Sam and Dean walk in and cut off their heads. And come home to... Christmas. Lights are strung all over, jazzy Christmas music is playing, there's a huge decorated tree and gifts, and Mrs. Butters has a tray of homemade cookies. "We are so keeping her," Dean says. Sam looks unsure.

Kitchen. Mrs. Butters tells Sam that since he and Dean have been so busy killing monsters, they haven't had a chance to celebrate anything. But I can barely pay attention to a single word that comes out of the woman's mouth because LOOK AT SAM IN THIS T-SHIRT. LOOK AT IT.

Single-layer Sam is something to celebrate.

She insists that Sam "enjoy the world you're fighting for" (which is never gonna happen, lady) and excitedly talks about all the holidays she wants to make up for. Then Jack enters, and her mood changes instantly. Even Jack's adorable little dorky wave doesn't melt her. "What are you?" she asks coldly.

Enter Dean, wearing a real-life version of the purple "sleeping robe" and nightcap he wore in "Scoobynatural." OH MY GAWD. I really hope this was a surprise for the rest of the cast.

And I also hope he's not really going commando underneath... or do I?

Mrs. Butters is distracted enough to decide that if the boys vouch for Jack, he must be okay. She hands Jack a smoothie but tells Dean he must have tomato juice due to his cholesterol. And she pronounces it the Patrick Stewart way, not the Mark Hammil way.

Before Dean can drink his to-mah-toh juice, the monster radar alarm goes off, and the guys rush off to prepare for a hunt. For future reference, when you leave the kitchen, Sam's room is to the right and Dean's is to the left. We next see the guys fully dressed, receiving sack lunches from Mrs. Butters. Dean's sandwich has the crusts cut off. {Sidebar: Sam never had someone to cut the crusts off his sandwich. Hold me. And also, how many reminders am I going to have of "Dark Side of the Moon" tonight?} She tells Sam the monster is a lamia, the blessed knives are in the trunk, and she just waxed the car so Dean needs to take it easy.

As the guys rush off, she turns to Jack and his smoothie mustache. "Well. What shall we do with you?"

NOTHING GOOD, I'M SURE.

As Jack helps wash dishes, he fills her in. Lucifer was his father, Mary was his family and his friend but he killed her. Mrs. Butters is very supportive, telling him "life gives us second chances and it's our obligation to hold onto them." And she presents him with another smoothie.

Montage! Thanksgiving dinner. More hunts. More sack lunches. Halloween (and even Sam seems to enjoy it). Fourth of July. (Yet another "Dark Side of the Moon" shoutout). A hunt requiring the grenade launcher and Thor's hammer from that episode whose title I can't remember! Sam's birthday! By the way, none of these holiday celebrations include Cas.

Mmmm. So worthy.

Time jump. Jack catches Mrs. Butters looking at something in a file cabinet and being very sneaky about it. He requests another smoothie to get her out of the room, and then finds what she was looking at. It's her MoL file, including a reel of film. The film shows Cuthbert Sinclar talking about File 5150 (aw, RIP Eddie Van Halen). The subject was actually recovered from the Thule (aw, "Everybody Hates Hitler") and we learn that wood nymphs "react violently when home or family are threatened." Sinclair says he "conducted a series of experiments designed to show this strange and magical being of our mission" and convinced her to join the MoL family. Huh. Wonder how he did that. Then Mrs. Butters demonstrates her devotion by literally ripping the head off a Thule. "Son of a bitch," says Jack, because he's been spending a lot of time with Dean.

Jack runs into the war room looking for Sam (and yes, I'm petty enough to love that he looks to Sam first), who is off getting ready for a "big date." Huh. Okay. Mrs. Butters offers him soup, but then Sam walks in, giving off some pretty strong Hot Professor Sam vibes (hello again, "Everybody Hates Hitler") with a sweater vest and tie, and I am thrilled with this development.

Thrilled, I tell you.

Mrs. Butters tells him he looks wonderful but offers to trim his hair (back off, lady, I will cut you) and Dean enters in time to make a weak Abercrombie and Bitch joke. Sam tells him Eileen's in town, and he's taking her out to dinner and "some privacy, something."

"Heavy on the something," Dean says, and we're going to talk about that later, I promise. But for now, Mrs. Butters tells Sam to take one of the old cars from the garage. Finally. Can we just make this permanent? Can Sam have his own fucking car, please? She produces a bouquet of roses from nowhere and sends him on his adorably anxious way. Then she tells Dean she found a broken TV in one of the rooms and fixed it. "The Dean Cave?" Dean is off like a shot. I wonder if that's the TV he smashed with a hammer, and if so, how did she fix it? (Also, hello again, "Scoobynatural.")

Jack is still unsettled. He follows her into the dungeon and tells her he saw the film. {Sidebar: The film showed her killing one of their enemies because she's protective of the MoL. Is it really that awful? Discuss.} "And how did that make you feel?" she asks. "You relished his pain, didn't you, Jack?" Oh, turns out that was a setup - she wanted Jack to see the video, so she could confirm that he was a bloodthirsty little monster. And do the Winchesters know how powerful he has become?

They should be scared of you!

I would never hurt them.

You have before, haven't you? Have you ever thought that Sam and Dean keep you in here, closed in, secure, because they're scared you'll do to someone else what you did to their mother?

Well, I mean. Now he has. She flings Jack into the wall. He tries to use the glowy eyes on her, but he finds himself powerless. She snaps the magic handcuffs on him. "You didn't think those smoothies were for your health, did you? Oh, I've learned a few things while I was doing the dusting around here. A little yarrow root, some ground jawbone for texture, and voila! You are as weak as a puppy."

Wait. That's all it took? To power down a nephilim, who is canonically more powerful than his archangel parent? So when the Winchesters were trying to take down Lucifer and AU Michael, all they needed was some yarrow root and ground jawbone? And the answers were all right here in the bunker?

(Sigh. Don't think about it. That way lies madness.)

(Also, canon! Ha ha ha ha.)

She tells Jack she's making the bunker safe again and getting rid of all the monsters. Like you, sweetness. Aw. Sad Jack.

Kitchen. Dean comes in looking for a snack and is immediately presented with some kind of grilled sandwich. She tells him to eat it, because he'll need his strength when they go kill Jack. Aw, that's the sound of a heart breaking.

Dean is disappointed that their good thing has gone "full Nurse Ratchet," and glances longingly at the sandwich he has to leave behind. He takes Mrs. B's knife and suggests they let Jack go and pretend this never happened. The only logical conclusion is that Dean is under Jack's spell, so he gets tossed into the dungeon too. Oh, cool. Does that mean Sam gets to be the hero and save them?

Spoiler alert: Ha ha ha ha no.

Hello, Demon Dean. That's the only other time we've seen this expression, isn't it? {Or is it simply the only one branded onto my brain? Discuss.)

Map table room. Sam comes in and is met by Mrs. B. "Bit past your curfew, Samuel," she says curtly. He's no longer wearing his tie. Hmm. So, let's talk about the Eileen situation. Isn't it weird that (1) Dean didn't know she was in town, and (b) she's not spending the night at the bunker? Wouldn't you think she'd be a house guest? I mean, she's not "in town" for the heck of it. The only thing that would bring her to Lebanon would be Sam. So why isn't she here seeing Sam? Is she just driving through on her way somewhere else? She can't even spend one night in the bunker? And the tie? If Sam removed his tie, doesn't that strongly suggest Dean was right about the "something" going on? Did they do it in the back of the old car? At a hotel? I have questions, friends.

Anyway. Sam asks where Jack and Dean are, since it's late and they should be sitting around the map table waiting for him to come home and not, like, in bed or anything. "Well, I have some good news, and some bad news."

HERE IS SOME GOOD NEWS INDEED.

Honestly, I like this look better without the tie.

Time jump.

So, Jack has taken over Dean's mind. And they're both downstairs, right now, ready to be killed by us.

You were always the smart one, yes.

Sam, who is the smart one, says he's going to go to his room and get his gun, and he'll meet her in the dungeon. "And we can... get to the killing." I LOVE HIM. {Sidebar: I have watched his fake relieved sigh several times and it makes me smile every time.} Once he’s safe in his room, Sam calls Dean and starts to tell him about Mrs. Butters.

Went psycho, we know.

Why didn't you call me?

Well, I mean I, you know, I figured you were "practicing your sign language."

And that's more important than coming to save you?

...

Dean?

It's been a while for you, man, you know?

Aw. Always the supportive big brother. {Sidebar: As long as Sam is doing something Dean thinks Sam should be doing. But I digress.}

{Sidebar: I love Dean, y'all know I do. Warts and all. He'd be boring if he were perfect.}

Dean suggests Sam shoot her, although they don't know if a gun will kill her because neither of them got around to researching it because they were distracted by Christmas and Thanksgiving and breakfast on Boxing Day. That's how you get killed, guys. {Sidebar: How much do I love that Sam calls it Boxing Day? For my Brit friends, that's not really a thing in the U.S., although it's gradually starting to become one. And I love it.}

Dean then suggests that putting the bunker in standby mode might put Mrs. B in suspended animation again. Meanwhile, Jack and Dean are stuck in the dungeon. Jack suggests using his power to remove the cuffs, but Dean points out that the power surge would catch Chuck's attention. But what power surge? Jack already tried to use his power against Mrs. B and it turned out he didn't have any.

Jack suspects there are other reasons Dean doesn't want him to use his power, and suddenly decides it's time for a deep conversation.

Do you still think I'm a monster? Okay, I'm just gonna say this, okay? Just get it out there. Jack, I'm trying, okay? I really am. But what you did, that's not easy to forget. Now, I was angry with you. For a while. And maybe I still am a little bit, okay? But I'm not gonna let some evil Mary Poppins take you out. You understand?

Okay. Good talk.

Sam shows up in the library looking for Mrs. B, and trying to hide his gun, as if he hadn't told her he was going to his room specifically to retrieve said gun. But Mrs. B realizes he's trying to kill her, and freezes him. She's not mad, she's just disappointed. She tosses him into a chair and keeps him there with the power of her mind, not with rope or anything, in case you were wondering. {Oh, hello, "Funeralia" and "The Trap."} She tells him that when the MoL first found her, she didn't realize how important they were. But Mr. Cuthbert explained it to her. And since Sam is her favorite, she's not going to give up on him. Yet. She's going help Sam the same way Mr. Cuthbert helped her understand. Well, that doesn't sound ominous at all.

He's my favorite too! And I also think he needs to be hurt! See, she's basically me!

Dungeon. Dean is going to try to chop Jack's handcuffs off.

You're sure this is gonna work?

Let's say yes.

Aw. That was a perfect opportunity to bring back "maybe 90% sure." And it doesn't work - Jack is sent flying into a glassed-in cabinet that I've never seen in the dungeon before. Dean says "dang it" before remembering that he can use his big boy words, which is adorable. And then he gets an idea.

Upstairs. Mrs. B tries to convince Sam that Jack is a monster because he's Lucifer's son. Sam, of course, takes the opposite side of this debate. "Now, Mr. Cuthbert taught me that pain can be a wonderful teacher. Let's see if it can't correct your ways."

I SWEAR, Y'ALL, SHE IS ME.

Sam could sneer at her and say "I've been tortured by the devil himself; what can you do to me?" but we don't have that version of Sam any more. Mrs. B, without tools, yanks off one of his fingernails. {Oh, hello "A Very Supernatural Christmas!"}

Meanwhile, downstairs, Dean has a different theory on pain. It's just "weakness leaving the body," he tells Jack. We get a little "on three" bit, where he actually does the thing on one. And the thing is that he tries to cut Jack's handcuffs again, but this time Jack is strategically placed in front of the dungeon door. So when he's thrown back by the blast, he ends up breaking the door down.

Upstairs. Sam's been relieved of even more fingernails.

Downstairs. Dean takes a hammer (!) and smashes the reset button. Why doesn't he just push it with his hand? I mean, sure, we get the hammer, and the red lights and warning klaxon, and all of that turns me into Pavlov's dog {Hello, "Soul Survivor"}. But still. Seems unnecessary.

Upstairs. Mrs. B seems to be gone, and Dean bends over like he's untying Sam's wrist. But Sam's wrists aren't tied to anything, so. I got nothin'.

Downstairs. The runes that seem to hold Mrs. B in stasis light up, but do not stay lit. Well, that can't be good. And then the bunker grid control center thing thingy starts shaking and springs a leak. Ooops. Here she comes, complete with glowy green eyes.

Upstairs. Dean finishes untying Sam from the chair he wasn't tied to, and remarks on how gross his tortured hand is. Mrs. B shows up, yells that they've all been very bad, and flings them across the room. She's sure Sam will thank her someday for killing Jack, because it's so important to kill monsters and keep the MoL safe. It's why she couldn't go back to her forest. Sam explains to her that Mr. Cuthbert tortured her and used her, and Dean tells her Jack is going to save the world. Oh, okay then. The regular lights turn back on and Mrs. B tearfully says she misses the MoL so much.

Aftermath. Mrs. B heals Sam's hand and apologizes and all is immediately forgotten and once again, Sam gets to forgive his torturer and turn the other cheek. Yay! Sam, what was it you said earlier?

Gif stolen from @michaeldean

The guys send Mrs. B back to the woods, but first they have this conversation:

Sadly, without my magic, the bunker will revert to standby mode, so. Ah well, things were getting too easy anyway, you know? Who needs a monster radar? Or whatever that telescope thing is? It's an interdimensional geoscope. It's a what? I looked in it earlier; I didn't see anything. Oh. Well that's not good.

Holy crap, you guys. Interdimensional. It let the MoL look at the alternate worlds. And now you can't see anything because all of the alternate worlds have been destroyed. Gotta admit, this is an excellent little twist.

Jack presents Mrs. B with the photo of the MoL. "Oh look," she says. "The man who tortured me and kept me from my home, right here, front and center." Well, no, she doesn't. But I do.

Mrs. Butters gives them some last instruction. "Dean, eat your vegetables. And Sam, cut your hair. And Jack, go save the world." Well, I'm in favor of one or two of those things.

Try to tell me I'm wrong. Just try.

After-aftermath. Jack tells Sam that he doesn't know if he can kill God, since he was sidelined by a wood nymph "because I was stupid." He asks if Sam thinks he can do it.

"Jack, you're the only who can." No pressure.

Dean shows up with a truly awful-looking birthday cake for Jack. "I made it myself. Obviously." But Jack is thrilled because it's from Dean, and it means Dean loves him and has forgiven him, until the plot requires otherwise. He makes a wish and blows out his single candle. Fade to black.

So! There were parts of this that were simply marvelous. There were parts that were kind of dumb. There were parts that would have made me very angry if I weren't so tired and jaded. But the good parts were darn good, and the pretty was dialed up to 11, and we all know I'm a sucker for a pretty episode. And there was NO B PLOT. AT ALL. Thank you baby Jesus.

And let’s just refuse to consider the possibility that these were, in fact, their last holidays. Thanks.

Now I get to see what you thought about it. And, as always, please help me stay unspoiled for future episodes, including episode titles and casting info. {smooches}

#spn #15.14 #initial reaction #recap #tv recaps #spoilers

[dropsofletters]

what lovers do

title: what lovers do pairing: johnny seo/reader genre: married in vegas!au/accidental marriage!au/strangers to lovers!au summary: the eve of new year’s is ruined when she realizes that one drunken night makes her a married woman. johnny seo doesn’t sound like a bad option to have as a husband, but she barely knows the man! could she get a divorce before new year’s eve? type: fluff/humor/angst word count: 22,090

December 5th

The taste of alcohol lingers on the back of his tongue, permeable through the room as he folds another one of his pieces of clothing. The early call of the morning burns on his eyelids, the comfort of his disheveled and fluffed out sheets seemingly too close for him to even fight back the desire to go back to bed and let his endeavors from last night talk through his dreams. However, the practical procrastinator that Johnny Seo claims to be would be offended by such antics, and it would also lead to a terrible headache later on the day when he actually has to get prepared to take a flight to Las Vegas.

The promise he makes inside his head is that he is going to finish packing as fast as he can before going back to bed and basking on his night out of drinking, the aftereffects buzzing through his skin and body.

Though, the excitement that settles on his chest is far stronger, welcoming December with its cold weather but also looking forward to the amount of memories he is planning to make during the month. Not only does he get to spend time with her childhood friend before she gets married to her high school love, but there is also the fact that this is his first big break after a long while of working as the party planner of the biggest events happening in Seoul at the moment, that has taken every ounce of energy away from him. Surely, the weight of his job would only be present as he takes pictures of the gorgeous decorations or the landscapes that he never wants to get out of his brain, but long forgotten will be the hours of being called endlessly to fix something in the list of invitees to a party.

His weight settles on top of the navy blue luggage he had just filled with his clothes, trying his hardest to remember how to properly organize clothing in order to have more space, learned from that one video he saw earlier on the week, but his mind comes up with absolute blankness. Instead, Johnny’s long legs bounce slightly, his fingertips gripping the zipper on the side to get it to close, using his other hand to push any pieces of fabric that may appear from the sides, only to hear the sound of someone groaning after the door to his room opens.

“What exactly are you doing, Johnny?” That tone comes from a hungover Taeyong, looking like the epitome of a surfer boy, with the way his blonde hair parts in the middle, soft strikes of his natural jet-black hair appearing at the roots. Being the one to take drinks better from the entirety of their group of friends, he remembers Taeyong undoing the buttons of his shirt the moment the contents of his third bottle of beer were down his throat and sooner than later, he started to snooze. Now his eyes are squinting thanks to the filtered lights through Johnny’s curtains, all effects from the sun, moving forward to push his friend away from the luggage to take a look at the mess he’d made.

“I was packing.”

Cheeks puffed out in annoyance, Taeyong looks at Johnny from over his shoulder before taking out the t-shirts the taller man had packed. “It’s impressive that you even dare to call this packing.”

Seoul does include some of his best memories, even when he is actually leaving for a month and a half to spend time with the people that had watched him grow up, from the basketball player of a high school student he was to the party planner he is today. Somewhere in college, he met Taeyong—always the protector of everyone surrounding him, his roommate at his dorm that got one too many headaches from the mess Johnny likes to leave around his room. Mind him, he thinks it is an organized mess. Soon after, there came Yuta as an exchange student that never actually left, working alongside Johnny to be the cause of Taeyong’s quickened heart palpitations, and not for a good reason, most of the time with their morning adventures and their sneaky jokes thrown to their sweetest of friends.

Someone else plops down on the bed, the mess of bleached blonde hair noticeable in the sunlit room. Jungwoo came to his life in the form of softly spoken words, his pupil throughout his beginnings as a party planner, cousin of one of his closest friends and for a reason, one of his best friends nowadays. Something about him is incredibly and naturally pure, until liquid courage goes visit him and Jungwoo becomes a more outstanding version of himself. After all, it had been his idea to go out drinking as a farewell to Johnny—not permanent, of course—and his idea developed into even worse decisions throughout the night. All made in good fun, of course.

“Why is everyone talking so loudly?” Jungwoo speaks softly, his eyes closing immediately after his cheek presses tightly against the surface of Johnny’s bed. The man takes this time to change his clothing from last night and take a shower before he even forgets to do so. His shirt is over his head by the time Taeyong speaks up.

“Because Johnny was jumping on the bed and he woke me up.” Taeyong argues, squinting his eyes at his ex-roommate. While all his closest friends are here at that exact moment, it isn’t always like this. In most occasions, Taeyong just goes over to check on Yuta’s and Johnny’s place, saying that he has to make sure there is something more than noodles on their shelves and that they keep their place tidy enough to walk through it. “Why are you taking so many t-shirts to Las Vegas, by the way? I thought you were just going there for a few weeks because of your friend’s wedding.”

Opening the door to his bathroom, his pants obviously still on, he leans against the doorframe as he speaks. “Because I’m going to Chicago a few days before Christmas.”

“Oh, right. I had forgotten.” The least blonde of the pair speaks, closing Johnny’s luggage expertly and in an efficient manner. “Come on, Jungwoo. I’m going to give you some painkillers and I’ll prepare some breakfast.”

The thought of fulfilling breakfast after a long night out with his friends is enough to have Johnny’s hand reaching for his stomach, smiling at the sight of Jungwoo sitting up in a hassle. “How come you two don’t have a headache?” The youngest asks, earning a puff from Taeyong.

“I have one. I’m just not projecting it.”

Johnny scoffs at his friend’s words. “You think you’re not projecting it? Look at yourself in the mirror.” A brief smile appears over Taeyong’s face, watching as the tallest takes a few steps forward, bringing his phone up from his bedside table to unlock it and show something to the people he is not going to be able to see as much as he is used to. They have been there for him almost every day of the past few years and it would be a lie if he says he is not going to miss them. “And you have such terrible headaches because Yuta and I were taking care of you when you decided to take us to Victoria’s Secret and buy a pair of bras for you guys.”

Jungwoo is the first one to lean forward, looking over Johnny’s shoulder to gasp at the picture of the two drunkest people of the night, both wearing exactly what Johnny had talked about. “Why did you take a picture of that?!”

“You asked me to!”

Taeyong’s face basically merges into a frown, laughing at his own antics before shaking his head. “I did that?”

“Yes, but don’t feel bad about it.” Pushing his phone away towards his bed, Johnny takes a breath in. This is the life that he is going to miss for a while; the calmness of such a place, the friends that make him feel like there is not a funnier moment to live than the present. This, even though he doesn’t say it, is also his home. “I’ve been there. I’ve done similar things.”

Two of Jungwoo’s fingers press to his temples, softly groaning at the pain. Hesitantly, he opens his eyes to correspond to the conversation. “At least they looked good on me. I have better tits than Taeyong.”

Wrapping his hands around Jungwoo’s shoulders to bring him out of the room, the two men leave by the time Taeyong says: “Let’s just get you those painkillers before you say more stupid stuff—”

With his towel tossed over his shoulder, the fabric carefully touching his skin, Johnny wonders what exactly will wait for him after he gets on that plane later on the day. Something within him settles comfortably, the feeling of warmth coming from beneath him speaking wonders to his sixth sense. Nothing could go wrong as long as he gets to see his best friend.

💍

December 7th

Digging in the depths of his white, puffy jacket, he tries not to grasp on to his phone to entertain himself further in the thoroughly planned welcoming breakfast getaway that his friend, Sam, had invited him to. The hotel bed still calls out for him, a reminder of the long trip he had and a memory of jetlag, profoundly living beneath him in the confusion he feels between time and space. Nonetheless, he can appreciate the smell of food being cooked near him, the backyard of Sam’s fiancé house far bigger than what he had ever imagined.

Well, Sam’s list of wishes in a man had always involved at least a few thousands in his back account, but that is just her preference. Valid, though harsh.

Fixing his faux glasses falling on top of his nose-bridge, Johnny takes the time to look at the masterpiece that Sam had prepared, not as excellent as a party he would host, but it’s damn near close. The backyard is decorated beautifully, shades of cream, brown and white covering all the small tables that keep their closest friends and families divided in groups that were not uncomfortable with one another. There is a buffer with thousands of sweets, all waiting for him to try once he gets some food in his system and a small place for the children to play around. He shall be seated by the table that includes Sam’s high school friends, but he has already embarked in enough conversations about jobs, marriage and kids to get bored. What he wants to do, however, is just take a nice breath in and relax.

He deserves this. He has worked damn hard for years without a break to earn himself a title in between the richest of individuals, and naturally, he simply wants to relax while far away from the groups of people, drinking on the smoothie that he had gotten from one of Sam’s family members—the contents, he doesn’t remember, but he is guessing there is papaya and banana somewhere in there.

Squatting down near the bushes, taking pictures of Sam as she talks to her fiancé and his family, there is a woman holding a camera. Her eyes are completely focused on the device in front of her, hair tied away from her face, body cladded in casual clothing, far less elegant than the majority of the people there. She is an outsider, he can tell, for she has not taken a break from taking pictures. The shape of her legs when she stands up is what catches his attention first, a small smile playing on his lips when he pushes the glass filled with fruity mixtures up his lips.

A blessing in disguise, really, that is exactly what she is. A rose hiding in a sea of thorns.

Following after Sam when she walks over to him is what the photographer does, and he knows exactly she is one just by taking a look at her. Overly serious with that hint of awkwardness because she is taking pictures of such an important moment in a person’s life…as a complete stranger. He hires them for his parties, more often than not calling one of Jungwoo’s friends—they need the boost in their curriculum, and Johnny desires for different styles depending on the scenery of the event.

“Johnny!” Sam greets him, long and brown locks falling behind her tanned shoulders, a memory of the plenty of travelling she has done during the summer. Johnny keeps up with his high school best friend as often as he can, but the past few months have been much too involved with exotic islands from her part. “What are you doing here? Are you getting too hungry? I promise the food will be finished soon.”

“There is only so much marriage talk I can stand before I get bored.” His eyes lift up to see that, from a bit far away, the photographer is taking pictures of them, his lips enveloping one of his famous smirks. “You know I take excellent pictures, why hire someone else?”

Looking over her shoulder, Sam waves her hand at the photographer, who simply waves back before going back to take pictures of other individuals. “She is one of the best photographers I have known. Sorry.” The woman jokes around, pushing her plush lips forward. “Besides, Orlando has known her for a long time…and he wanted me to hire her, too.”

Raising an eyebrow, Johnny chuckles. “I’m not complaining.”

“Johnny!” Sam whines, pushing her friend’s shoulder before joining in his laughter. “She is pretty, though. Not my style, but pretty.”

“You like the rich style.”

“I do.” The giggle that leaves her shows her materialistic side, the one that covers the majority of her good traits. Sam has been nothing but supportive of him, a woman made to take over the world. Leaning forward, Sam grips the edge of Johnny’s coat, bringing him closer to her to whisper to him. “Do you want me to talk to her about you or…?”

Johnny simply knows he has it under control. Flirting has always come naturally for him, seeping through his words, dripping like honey from his plush lips. In the past, he used it more often—when his job didn’t take up a big chunk of his life away, leaving him to useless small talk and brief dates that end in nothingness. “I have it under control.” He confirms his thoughts, watching as Sam’s lips wrap in a weak whistle. “What?”

“Go get her, tiger.” Sam indicates, turning around when she hears someone calling her name. “Oh, hi! Oh my God, you’re pregnant?!”

At least, he doesn’t have to feel bad for leaving his friend alone.

Eyes lingering on her presence, Johnny tries to approach her endlessly, only to come up with nothing. Her feet bring her to one side of the backyard to the other, complying to the people who want to get their pictures taken and repeating them over and over again for those who are not pleased with the outcomes. The first few times, he simply stands back and accepts it is her job that is in the line and while Sam must look like the epitome of serenity on the outside, she can get a little bit petty when it comes to the dream day of her upcoming wedding, even when this is just a welcoming party for those who had to come from different parts of the world. However, the more he looks at her, the more he feels like he need to spark some conversation.

Normally, Johnny is a very pleasing guy to talk to, but he doesn’t pride himself on his teasing behavior, at times. It exudes in his actions, too, when he decides to photobomb every picture that she has taken, standing in the back, ruining a perfect background or simply making a silly face. It goes unbeknownst to her for at least an hour and Johnny decides that enough is enough, sitting down with his friends and enjoying a fulfilling breakfast after the couple’s long speech about their welcoming wishes and their impending wedding.

It is when he is looking through his phone, pondering if he should go back home to rest his headache away, that he feels someone tapping him on the shoulder rapidly and when he turns around, he thinks Santa gave him an early visit and gifted him the most precious of gifts. On her face, there is an impending frown, household of her frustration towards him and it has never looked better on anyone else.

He can’t help but smile when she says:

“You photobombed all my pictures!”

“Yeah, so?”

He is aware of what he is doing, of the terrible aftertaste of his words when he smiles at her because she suddenly realizes that his intentions were to do such thing. “Why would you do that? Now I have to edit all of them!” The groan in her voice has him feeling a bit bad, but partially, he is just happy of getting her attention. Instead, he shrugs his shoulders.

“You could always send some my way. I’m also good with photography and editing.” The proposal is supposed to bring them together or make her feel better, but there is something in the glare that she gives him that means the exact opposite. Still, she continues talking to him.

“You never told me why you did what you just did.” She presses, earning a sigh from Johnny from simply looks up before standing up from his seat, crossing his arms over his chest to show his confidence in the situation. Now that she is not hiding most of her face with a camera, her features become even more beautiful under his gaze.

“I wanted to get your attention.”

Scoffing, she looks through the set of pictures. “And you did, in the worst way possible, by the way.” Taking the memory card out of her camera after a few clicks, her fingers touch his palm when she puts it inside his hand. “I just made a backup. I need you to edit them and give them to me on the wedding day. My last hour of work was ruined just because of you and I am not letting you go easily.”

Johnny plays with the memory card in between his fingers, pressing a kiss to the surface before nodding. “I’ll have them looking like I was never there to start with.”

“I wish.” She mutters, earning a hum from the man.

“What’s that?” He asks, knowing exactly what she said but instead, he is welcomed by her strong stare.

“Don’t disappoint me, or I’ll make sure to kick your pompous ass once I finish this job.” The threat in her tone doesn’t scare him, not that it should when in reality he is going to edit himself out of the pictures to make them look as tidy as possible. Before he can say anything to her face, he watches her turn away, his eyes looking up and down her body before he speaks a bit louder for her to listen to.

“It was nice to meet you! Can I have your name?”

Stopping on her tracks, she tells him a name quickly, huffing out a breath before sparing him a glance. “What about you? I have to know your name so I can know where you are the day of the wedding.” He has a little bit less than a week before the day comes by, so he is sure he will be able to complete the task with his laptop and his Photoshop skills.

“The love of your life.”

“Listen, pretty boy, don’t play with me. I’m not in a good mood.”

“The love of your life or Johnny, either one works.” He corrects himself, earning a sharp nod from the woman before she leaves with her camera towards another place.

Feisty is the first thing he thinks when she slips away from his line of vision.

💍

December 13th

Putting the memories of the previous night back together is difficult for Johnny as he sleepily lays back on his hotel bed.

The memory card was placed inside the pocket of his jacket, pressing against his skin as he watched Sam going down the aisle hand on hand with her stepfather, followed by the photographer who had gotten herself dressed up for the occasion, wearing a somewhat average length dress in the softest shade of pale blue. That much is clear in his head, reminiscent of the big hug he gave the couple once they were out of the church, the smile he gave to the camera when the photographer got closer to take a picture of them and the eye roll that followed soon after when he beamed even brighter at her.

Soon after came the party, a nice event salon filled with people, black and white decorations and the most noir of concepts, elegant and vintage exactly like how Sam wanted. His first drink came when the speech Sam gave continued with a video of her youthful years, pictures of Johnny and Sam along with their group of friends appearing in the big screen, and damn him for passing on the expensive treats that Sam was serving for her wedding—all made exactly by the ingredients he didn’t like, too bitter for his taste, and the fact that he drank that second glass of whiskey before it actually downed on him. Now, Johnny is not much of a drinker in a daily basis, but in a celebration…it was normal to have one drink or two. Maybe, he had just gotten used to having soju and beer in most occasions, in the few times he does drink, or perhaps the whiskey was far stronger thanks to its age.

The point is that everything is a blur after that; he remembers eating something from the hands of Orlando himself and of course, he remembers giving the memory card to a smiley photographer, unlike anything he had seen her be like in the wedding rehearsals, when she wouldn’t even utter a word his way. They had known each other for almost a week, and yet, they hadn’t crossed the line of absolute hatred from her part and his stupidity coming from his. Instead, he closes his eyes tightly, trying to remember why she was laughing in his memory, but his mind goes blank.

Turning on his bed, he realizes that the curtains are opened and that there is a baby blue fabric glistening somewhere in one of the seats in his expensive hotel room, but he doesn’t pay much attention to that. Yet, his chest heaves at the reminder of the conversation progressing and he remembers a few facts about what she had told him around the time two in the morning neared the clock. She is a professional photographer, she can’t stand her siblings, she loves how pink roses look in the background of some pictures and most importantly, her dream is to be able to leave the awoken city of lights sometime in her life. She wants more than the city and the quickness of it all; she wants tranquility.

The memories after that come flashing back to him when he sits up on the bed, reminding the time he cried on her arms for some reason, reminder of how he wonders if he really made the right choice to live in a never-ending party with his job; as well as a few tears because his best friend is getting married, and he couldn’t be more proud. At the time, the clock read four in the morning and she had kissed the tears away with her red lipstick painting his skin in color. The lights of the sun cast down on the vanity in front of him, large mirror showcasing the length of his body, how his collarbones are decorated cherry blossoms and his lips are a thousand times redder than they naturally are.

The last slice of recollections that he grips on to is his hands on her waist, dragging down her thighs and her hips, lifting her dress as she clutches on his biceps, clinging to his necktie to bring him closer and closer, a cheap ring carving his jaw with her touches—

A pinch on his cheek makes him open his eyes entirely, blinking the sleepiness away when he realizes that the trip could be lethal with how much anger is put into it. His fingers grasp the wrist of the person that touches the skin far too harshly, turning around to come face to face with the photographer he had been trying to seduce. Granted, she is wearing the button down he had worn to Sam’s wedding, her makeup smudged at the edges but mostly erased away from her face, but the look of anger is there.

Where was the smiling woman from last night?

“What the fuck is this?!” Her voice is hoarse, an indicator that she is feeling quite as wronged as him. The beaming lights touch the surface of her ring finger, showing the exact same ring from his memory, wrapping around the surface snugly, nothing too special like a diamond ring or even a decoration fitting the jewel. Instead, she reaches down for his hands, taking his right one in between her fingers before gasping at the sight of a ring, matching in the versions they picked and the same silvery color blinking at them mockingly. “Oh…no…” She starts, letting his hand fall down on his lap before sitting beside him. Her weight practically drags itself into the bed, covering her face with her hands, limbs shaking from something he doesn’t know. “Then, this is true…”

Johnny squints his eyes at the two rings, raising his eyebrows before leaning down to try to look at her in the eyes, but her hands keep the sight of her away from him. “What do you mean? I don’t remember anything.”

“Because we got drunk!” She tells him, voice totally enraged with something that goes unknown to him.

“No shit,” Johnny mumbles, taking the time to grasp her hands in his bigger ones to pull them away from her face. When she stares back at him, he can see that there are some tears caressing the corners of her eyes, creating terrible shadows upon her saddened expression. “Hey, they are just rings and I think we slept together, but I am so sorry if it makes you feel bad. I, uh, I don’t know what to tell you. If this is a mistake for you, I am so sorry. I can call you a taxi and, fuck, I don’t know? I am extremely sorry.”

“Sleeping together was not the problem, dumbass. We both knew we were doing that, or were we not flirting the entire night?!” She tells him, using her knuckles to rub her angered tears away before looking for something in the pocket of Johnny’s button down.

“Then, uh…care to enlighten me here? I don’t know what’s going on…”

The smack of her hand against his palm presses a sheet of paper there, rolled up until the contents were hidden. His fingertips reach for the edge, unfolding it until he is met by black, thick and elegant letters, all reading in capitals the worst words that one would want to see after a drunken hook-up:

Certificate of Marriage. And not one with an Elvis Presley picture imprinted on the cover, but one that looks both legitimate and legal, showing her full name and his and a bunch of paragraphs reading their new status as husband and wife.

So, Sam was not the only one to get married yesterday…

He got married, too.

The reminder didn’t stay in his brain long enough for him to process, but the first thing he does is check for a stamp, a signature, anything that indicates it is fake. A written part that simply gives away that this is not meant to be done by drunken individuals, but everything points to be of correct jurisdiction and now, he has a crying woman on his hotel bed, wearing his clothing and specifically, now going after the name of his wife.

“I just fucking ruined my life.” She sobs, choking on her own words while she brings her knees up her chest to press down, wanting to find solace in anything and everything around her. Johnny leans back on his calves, taking the time to sit straight just to carefully wrap his arms around her, feeling her shy away at the touch. “The first time I get shitfaced in my life and the time I finally give in to a hook up and this happens.”

Johnny’s heart softens, imagining that if this is difficult for him—who has been on a stranger’s bed and definitely has been drunk before, then it must be even more complicated for her. His big hands rub at her back, factual on how much he wants to support her…or how he needs to feel like he has some kind of control over the situation. “Hey, don’t mind it—”

“How are you so calm?!” She asks, placing her hands over his chest to push him away gently, only to get a look at his bothered expression.

“I am not calm, but I know this has a solution.” His voice shakes slightly before taking both of her hands in his, grasping them delicately as if he would be able to break her with such touch. “We are in this mess together and we can get out of this together, as well.”

The words spark her interest, sniffling through her runny nose before rubbing at her moist cheeks, quirking her eyebrow at his words. “Yeah? Tell me what you have in mind.”

Giving a brief smile, Johnny pushes her messy hair away before blowing out an unsteady puff of air. “Divorce.” He says, quick and simple and easy, and it is the most rational thought. If this marriage certificate is real, then they only have to find the divorce papers and get it over and done with as soon as possible. If they are lucky, they won’t have to go through much paperwork—after all, they haven’t been married for more than a few hours. “We go to the address of this place,” He points at the small letters at the end of the certificate. “And we tell them we want to get a divorce. That’s simple. We can do it right now if you want.”

She nods her head before her eyes widen, reaching for Johnny’s phone and looking at the time before she stands up from the bed rather quickly. “I’ll try to get out of work early, but I kind of forgot I had a gig today—”

“No way.” Johnny groans, throwing his head back and blinking up at the ceiling. “Can’t you cancel? This is kind of important. You’re my wife and we have only known each other for, like, a week.”

“I really can’t. The only way I could cancel is with a doctor’s note and we’re not going to the doctor’s, are we?” She rushes towards her dress, pushing it up her body and bringing the straps up her shoulders before taking off the button up, throwing it at Johnny’s face for him to catch.

“And what time do you get out? We have to do this as soon as possible—”

Hissing, she moves her hands up and down to calm down her nerves. “I know. I know! I think I get out at seven, if the even goes fine, it’s already three in the afternoon and I have to go my apartment and get everything from there.” Her hands hook at the edges of her shoes, placing her feet inside before standing as proudly as she can with such a situation in her hands. “If I don’t manage to get out early, we can always go at eight in the morning tomorrow. Even earlier, if you want.”

Johnny sighs, placing his arm over his eyes before moving his phone in between his fingers. “Kay. Give me your number so we can communicate.”

“You have my number.” She indicates, sounding a bit out of breath as she speaks. “…You don’t remember anything about what happened last night? We exchanged numbers before we decided to go out for snacks and then I don’t remember, but I remember that.”

“I don’t, sorry.” Annoyingly, he adds, hearing the sound of her quickened footsteps as she walks out of his room. As always, she looks at him from over her shoulder before letting out a sigh.

“…I can’t believe we got married.”

“Well, that makes two of us.” Johnny complains, giving her a once-over before pressing his lips together. “But we can always get a divorce. Don’t worry. We won’t have to be married for long.”

“I sure hope so.” She says, licking the side of her lips before looking up at the sky. “God, please tell me the condom didn’t break. That’s all I don’t need right now.”

He chuckles at her antics, standing up from the bed and extending his arms over his chest, catching her stare that lingers on his stretched muscles. “Just go to work before you get fired.”

With a quick nod and the resonating noise of the door closing, Johnny’s front finally falls into complete turmoil. What kind of decision had he made?!

The cheap diamond ring only glistens under his gaze, mocking him for his uselessness.

💍

December 14th

Turns out, he gets a message at nine at night, saying that the event had been extended and she couldn’t make it to their petition for divorce. That leaves Johnny with little to no hours of sleep, as well as a terrible bad mood mixed with uncertainty by the time he does decide to leave the hotel for the day.

The city looks less bright once it is the morning, the weather changing to a colder state and while he drives through the streets trying to listen to both the GPS of his rented car and the radio, he starts to feel like coming there was the worst decision he could have made. Surely, Sam had gotten married and he should be happy to have been able to see such a beautiful moment in the life of a person he adores eternally, but their soul bond came to chase after him and made him a married man, the ring on his finger basically glued in place, reminder that he became exactly what he had despised. He tries not to be pessimistic, originally thinking that is such a wrong mindset to have at that moment, but he is running low on energy and definitely not expecting to get a text at six in the morning to meet up with his ‘wife’ at some diner that she calls her ‘favorite’.

His fingers thread through his black hair, pushing the long strands away from his face by the time he walks inside the diner. The aesthetics, like she had said through the text, are indeed without a comparison taken out of the eighties, exuding the atmosphere by the workers in roller skates, the tall seats and the hints of pink, black and white. The good thing is that the eggs smell delicious and that Johnny is practically starving by the time he sees someone wave her arms at him. Indeed, she is waiting there for him, wearing way more professional clothing than what he had seen her in the last day and a small smile plays on his lips when he walks towards her.

So, indeed, he didn’t want to get married…and he still wants the divorce, but there are worst people he could have accidentally gotten married to.

“Hello.” Johnny greets, going over to where he is and giving her a quick hug before taking the seat in front of her. His eyes immediately go down to her fingers, seeing that she still sports their shared bond. “I see you’re ready for divorce.” He jokes, earning a soft laugh from her.

“I swear I am.” She says, rolling her eyes slightly before giving him the menu, watching as his eyes trail over the set of words. The ring is uncomfortable in his finger, though it does match with the thick clothing he is wearing in such cold weather. “But we can’t get divorced with an empty stomach.”

“I have never heard something truer,” The honesty in his voice is clear, the corners of his lips lifting when he leans forward slightly, their legs carefully slotted together under the table. “But we’re going to have to share some coffee as Mr. and Mrs. Seo before that.”

“Seo?” She asks, scrunching up her nose before resting her head against her palm. “Oh, no. I forget I may be called that legally now…”

“Not for long.” Johnny says, bringing his hand forward to caress the skin of her palm with his thumb. “We are breaking Kim Kardashian’s record of short-lasting marriages.”

Even though it is not a matter to joke around, she chuckles at his words, shaking her head at them. “If that will give us as much money as she has and a reality show, deal, let’s do it.”

In reality, they may have been united by the most terrible of circumstances—something Johnny may probably wish upon his enemies, but sincerely doesn’t want to go through anymore—, but he doesn’t hold any harsh feelings towards the woman. Oddly uncomfortable, it feels, for he doesn’t know her for enough time to even consider marrying her…but there he is, being the husband of a person who he doesn’t know entirely, all a mistake made by what he vows to never touch again. Alcohol, and Las Vegas, two things that should have never gone together in the first place.

He does get to know a few things about her in this little kingdom of hers, bathed in an era that she longs for and misses more than the present. Like how she dusts her fingers in the air after picking up a slice of her food and how she can handle drinking hot coffee as a champion. The beauty of her is incomparable and yet, Johnny feels the shyest he has ever felt with any woman in the past. He was once a teenager, too, and he never had this bad of a case of clammy hands and uncomfortable laughs, but he knows just how tender their situation is. As far as he knew, she only wanted to experience the burning sensation of a pair of lips trailing down her body in her first hook-up, and Johnny had been thrilled to try to break the shell of such a serious and strict person.

And then, they got married. No timeline would be able to pinpoint how that decision came to be true…but this is their reality now, as sad as it can get.

For someone who has lived a big chunk of her life in Las Vegas, it is rare to hear she doesn’t have a car…but strict as she may be, she doesn’t want to hold the responsibility of being behind the wheel. That leaves Johnny to drive them towards their divorce, both aching to say something but also to keep his mouth shut. What kind of things would a normal person say in such a situation? As far as the morning has gone, they have only gotten to know each other further—like two people who are visibly attracted to each other, but that are married, as well.

This is definitely something Johnny will have to keep from his parents, friends, family and even his children. He doesn’t want to ever speak about what happened in Vegas.

The sight of the building in front of them is a relaxing matter, making Johnny sigh of relief when they step out of the car. His keys dangle in between his fingers as they walk, hearing the sound of her voice while they near such a serious place. “Well, we’re going to fix this.”

“We are.” Johnny indicates, a short laugh leaving his lips soon after. “I can’t believe I’m going to be a divorced man after this.”

“Ugh, right.” She groans, shaking her head in distaste of her drunken endeavors. “This is the worst thing I have done in my life. Period.”

“Is it really?”

“Well, it’s definitely the most irresponsible.”

Johnny smirks at that, his knuckles knocking on one of the doors inside the building, reading the name of what he supposes to be the place in which they got married, most likely an office. The humidity of such a spot has him sniffling softly, suddenly the atmosphere is far more distasteful than it was at the beginning. “That’s because you’re one of those good girls that never did anything in their lives.”

Nudging his side, she rolls her eyes at his words. “Come on, even this is bad for you.”

“Oh, trust me, this is bad.” He continues, earning a nod from her when they hear the sound of the door opening quickly. There is a woman with thick glasses in front of them, blonde hair tied snugly and up in her head, wearing an office suit in the cramped space. Even the sound of a needle falling to the floor would be noticed that time with how tranquil everything was. “Good morning, Miss, how are you? I am sorry we are disturbing you…but my wife and I got married two or three days ago and we would like to get a divorce.” This is laughable, definitely something that he would have never imagined himself doing, but there he is, talking to an office worker or a lawyer of sorts who will probably close the door loudly on their faces for taking her job as a joke.

“Hello,” Lowering her glasses down her nose, her eyes seem significantly bigger now. “Is this a joke?”

Now it is her time to help him, clearing her throat after the question. “Not at all. We definitely took an irresponsible decision and we want to spend our holidays in peace without having to think of this union, so…we can find any papers we need for the procedure, but we need to get it done today or tomorrow at most.”

“Listen, younglings, I know that this may seem like an easy job, but it really isn’t.” The office worker indicates, leaning her weight against the doorframe as she crosses her arms over her chest. “And I would love to help you out…and I could, if I wasn’t the only one here today. My apologies…but we’ve started out holidays a bit earlier thanks to a petition we signed and I am just here to accommodate my office before I have to leave.” Those words fall upon Johnny’s chest like an anchor, making him tighten his hands when he leans forward to try to reason with the office worker.

“We’ll help you out with anything, we’ll find the lawyers if necessary…come on, we were drunk when we got married!” The plea in his voice is insufferable to listen to and he swears he hears his ‘wife’ swear at him from behind his back.

“I wish I could help you, but we need to go over a lot of things for your divorce to come through. The quickest divorce I’ve managed to pull through with my whole team took four days to fulfill.” Once again, life is meeting him with a wrong set of news and he feels someone clinging to his arm when a shaky voice fills the air.

“Please—”

“I will be here on the thirteenth of January with the rest of my coworkers and I promise you to take care of your divorce as soon as possible.” Something within the office worker must have turned softer at the sight of them, two people who did not even know each other and had gotten married out of nowhere. She looks for something inside her office, coming with an introduction card that included her number and her name. “Call me a day before that and we’ll talk about what you need, not sooner though, I don’t like when clients pressure me. I am so sorry I can’t offer anymore help.”

“Please, I beg you.” The woman adds in distress, her hands shaking as she talks. “I don’t know how to explain what I did to my family and I don’t know what to do.”

“There’s nothing I can do.” The office worker finishes, giving a curt nod before returning to her office and closing the door in front of them, locking it and making it audible so they wouldn’t bother her anymore.

His gaze settles on her and he thinks he has never seen such disappointment; the loss on her features visible through every breath she gives. The first thing she does is scoff, rolling her eyes at the world before turning around. Hot at her feet, Johnny trails behind her, the swoosh of the entrance door opening and almost closing on his face when he continues to follow after her.

“Wait!” He calls out for her, adding her name various times in the sentence before he tugs at her arm, bringing her back to him. “Let me drive you home. She said that we can get the divorce in January, it’s okay, we can wait—”

“How are you not totally angry and out of your fucking mind?” She questions him as if he is the only one at fault, making Johnny raise his eyebrows before letting go of her skin.

“Because there is a solution to this. We’ll get a divorce and it will be over. It’s only a month until then.” Though he is still fearful, he wants to make the situation sound simplistic. His life has always been about finding a solution to everything, and now one of the biggest hardships in his life smacks him with a wrong decision. “I’ll push my trip back to Seoul if we need it. It’s okay.”

“How am I going to tell me family I got married? Johnny!” She whines, pressing her entire palms to the sides of her face, fingers digging on her temples. “I don’t know what took over me. I’ve always been responsible and then you came into my life.” Pressing her hand to his chest, she frowns at him. “You had to seduce me, didn’t you?”

“You played along as well!” Johnny defends himself, raising his hands in the air before giving her a part of his factual reminders. “And you also signed the papers. If you didn’t want to do this with me, then you wouldn’t have signed.”

“Because you were so sweet that night of the wedding!”

“Well, you’re welcome.” Sarcastically, he finishes, watching the look of distress in her face that absolutely breaks his heart. His arm wraps around her shoulder…simply because he knows that he has made a hundred mistakes in his life and he always feels invincible, like there is nothing that could stop him, and yet, someone like her had to come into his life and become united to him in such a non-understandable way. The coldness of her body presses to his chest, her knuckles clutching at the fabric of his coat. “Hey, we’ll figure it out. Good thing is that you have a hot husband.” The joke falls into deaf ears, worry overtaking him when he pulls away the slightest. “I mean it.”

“My family is going to be so pissed…” She is too lost in her thoughts for her to listen to his advices.

“Well, then you’ll spend the holidays with me.”

“Johnny, I just— I need to go back home and just…” Her fingers come up to rest at her chest, as if it pains her to even talk about such a mistake.

With widened eyes, he reaches for his pocket to grab his keys. “Okay, let me drive you. I feel like I can find the place from the address you gave me—”

“I want to go alone.” The finalization of her statement has him staring bewildered at her, watching as she turns on her back and starts to walk away from him. The entirety of his body is unable to move when he sees her shoulders shake, her fingers coming up to her face to muffle her sobs and he immediately closes his eyes tightly at the sight he doesn’t even get to see entirely.

What a fucking mistake.

But he’s going to fix this, maybe more as a friend rather than her husband, as someone who realizes that they made this mistake together…and it’s their turn to fix everything.

💍

December 16th

“Hey, it’s Johnny. Uh, I want to know if you got home safe. Let’s talk when you feel better, okay? Bye.”

That’s the first voicemail he leaves, and then, there came plenty of more.

“It’s Johnny again. You must think I’m annoying but…I’m having breakfast at the hotel and I wanted to know if you’ve eaten. Didn’t you tell me your holiday vacation starts soon? Well, I’ll save you a bit if you want.”

Once again, the answer was the dullest silence that carved in the skin of his ears.

“Hey, for real, I need to talk to you. I want to help you out. What do you think of going to Chicago for the holidays?”

“Are you okay?”

“Please, answer.”

By the time the night came, the only answer Johnny got was a text that read that she had been locked in her room and that she did not feel like going out today, but that she thanked him for worrying. It did not settle nicely within him and he blamed jet-lag from waking him up constantly during the night, bringing a few obnoxiously recurrent nightmares in his sleep. By the time the morning arrives, Johnny is already ordering the biggest breakfast he can manage and the hottest cup of coffee to wake himself up, wondering what exactly he is planning to do for a whole month of being someone’s husband. Indeed, he is trying to sound like he has everything together, for she is far more heartbroken than he is, but he has absolutely no idea what he could do. Going to his parents’ for the holidays was already in his plans at the beginning of the trip, but bringing a plus one along would raise suspicions, much more to his mother who claims to know Johnny ‘better than he knows himself’, and it’s true. Johnny is not the most unreadable of people.

With a toast coated in jam dangling from his lips, Johnny’s fingertips move quickly on the screen of his phone, deciding to speak all his worries away to the one person he knows would be unable to criticize him. Had he been mindful of the time, he would have reminded it was around eleven or twelve at night for Taeyong, even when it was an early morning for him. Licking his lips to keep the substance away, his ears form the sound of his friend’s sweetened tone.

“Johnny?”

“Hey, Yong. What’s up?” He hadn’t realized he needed that bite of reality…of consistency and softness. What Johnny needs right now is a piece of advice, coming from the voice of a man that has gone through his own version of hell and yet, he manages to look at the world with all the saccharinity of his heart. Had his soul been drenched in malice, Taeyong would have hung up by then.

“I was about to go to sleep.” He speaks softly, a yawn continuing after his statement. “You never call…is there anything going on?”

“I always text you.”

“Yes, but you never call. Much less if you’re in the States.” Always a man of knowing his friends to their deepest habits, Taeyong doesn’t take him by surprise with his statement. “So, is there anything bothering you?”

A shaky breath leaves his lips, placing the toast down on his half-eaten plate of food. He wants to pretend there is nothing bothering him, like his heart isn’t wondering just how badly he had destroyed both his life and his wife’s, that his bones are not practically glued to his seat as he fears what to do next. One day, he is going to have to face reality. “…I got married in Vegas.” Those words have Taeyong scoffing, insisting on him to tell the truth in the matter of seconds and he repeats the same five words. “I got drunk and hooked up with a girl, well, we both got drunk and…we got legally married. We can’t get a divorce until a month from now.”

A loud shout is what follows after Johnny’s statement. “Why did you do that?!”

“I promise not to drink again, but I wasn’t thinking straight. We, like, were too into each other for a night.”

“That’s one thing,” Taeyong points out quickly. “Another thing is getting married.”

Taking a bite of his, now soggy, toast makes him jot out his lip slightly. This is not the type of person he considers himself to be; he doesn’t sit down and wait for the world to figure out what to do next. He takes matters in his hands and makes the best situation out of the worst. “…She’s a nice person, but I don’t know what to do now. We basically have to be husband and wife for a month before we can get the divorce and she has been complaining about how she has ruined her life—”

“And for a reason.”

“Well, the blame can’t be all on me!” Johnny complains, reaching for a handful of almonds before placing them inside his mouth. “I know we both made a mistake, but it can be fixed. The problem is that it’s been two days since I’ve seen her last and she has been ignoring me completely.”

“For a reason, the sequel.” Taeyong enunciates, the man on the other end leaning his weight back on his bed before looking up at the ceiling in distress.

“Taeyong, what do I do?”

He may nag a little—or a lot—, but Taeyong is the complete opposite of the devil. “You may make wrong decisions, but you never come up with bad results. Show her your support and listen to what she has to say. If she doesn’t want to be friends with you, keep it as is.”

That is how he finds himself standing in front of her house’s door, feeling strangely like he is picking someone up before going to prom, but this is an entire different era of his life. The hard density of the cold air is pushing through his jacket, leaving his knuckles reddened and seeking for the warmth of his pockets, instead they bruise the surface of her door, knocking once and then twice before giving a few steps back. The locks slice open, welcoming him with the sight of the shell of the person he had met before. Still as beautiful as ever, but physically drained of all energy, her body cladded in an oversized white t-shirt and her legs dangling the fabric of her equally as big gray sweatpants.

“I told you I didn’t feel like going out.”

“…I wanted to check up on you.” Johnny confesses, hiding his hands in the depths of his pockets before humming softly. “In retrospect, it’s a stupid decision, but you said you didn’t want to go out and I remembered your address…kind of got here by luck.” The shrug he gives her is enough to have her sighing, pushing her body away from the doorframe to invite him in, an arm sprawled behind her to welcome him inside. His spine hunches a bit when he passes by her, taking a good look around her living room to see the simplicity of it all, definitely a clean mess, with pictures everywhere, some framed, some laying on her coffee table. Everything is held in a picture for her.

The crooking sound of the heels of her feet digging on to the wood in her flooring is what starts the conversation again. “I haven’t been feeling well. I have been getting constant calls from my family and I’ve been editing some stuff. Excuse the mess.” She moves over to her living room area, closing her laptop in a swift motion before resting it on top of the only clear space in her coffee table. Once she sits down, she realizes that there is a visitor in her home—after all, he is not exactly her husband…in reality… “Oh, I haven’t even prepared coffee. Do you want some?”

“Only if you get some for yourself.” Johnny declares, earning a curt nod from her as she goes over to the nearby kitchen. Over all, the place is rather small, not exactly homely, but it feels like her. Strange, inviting, unknown. His long fingers trace over the counter, looking at the shadow of her as she starts the coffee machine, an expert at the task from long hours of working. “What did you tell your family?”

“…Nothing. I went around the subject.” She says in between a sigh, pushing a few buttons on the machine before the engine starts, roaring in delicacy to serve as background music. When she turns to look at him, he is already seated by the counter, his hands splayed on top of the surface. “Now that you’re my ‘husband’, I may have to explain.” The quotations in the air have him smiling in a tight lipped notion. “I never talk about these subjects with everyone. My private life is mine for a reason, not a lot of my friends know about this either…but I come from a very strict household. I don’t think I ever got permission to date as a teenager, or I couldn’t stay up past certain time without getting scolded. I would have to act like the perfect child.” The explanation is something he had expected; given that she had talked about the fact that she lives life in such a serious way that it tires her. “I don’t normally visit them, but when I do…I always get questions about the way I live. Photography is not exactly what they thought I would be doing…”

Johnny raises his eyebrows at that, shaking his head at her words. “Photography is a valid job.”

“Not for my family.” She adds, reaching for a few mugs before placing them on top of the counter. Now that she is closer, he gets to see the beauty of her under the dimly lit kitchen. “That’s what I’m telling you. I have never fucked up this badly in my life, and I am going to be dead for them if I just tell them I got accidentally married.” A brief moment of silence fills them and the only thing he wants to do is apologize to her, but she cuts him off before he can even say anything. “And don’t get me wrong, Johnny, I know that you’re attractive and probably one hell of a guy, but if I tell them I’m married to a party planner from Seoul…and that I didn’t even know him for more than a week when we got married, we’re screwed.”

“We could always pretend we got to know each other for a long time or whatever…” Though the idea sounds terrifying to him. He can’t identify what kind of family he is going to meet, let alone because he has never met the family of any of his exes. “If you really want to go visit them, that is. I’m up for accompanying you through this time until we get that divorce.”

The weight of her hand resting on top of his and the smile on her face comforts him in such a dull atmosphere, like she is feeling the same fear as him and yet, they are there to support each other. “That’s the thing. I don’t really feel like going.” Biting down on her bottom lip, she rolls her eyes. “And they would kick you out. They were planning to invite one of my childhood friends to see if we would start dating.”

The world becomes a freeze frame at that moment, making Johnny lean forward as he imagines such an atrocious situation. “Excuse me?”

She chuckles at his reaction, blinking momentarily before continuing. “There’s this childhood friend I had, Simon. He’s…nice, I guess. He’s a lawyer, so my family want me to date him and marry him. I don’t know. I’ve never given two shits about Simon.”

“That’s more of a reason for not going.” Johnny points out, now taking the decision to save her from whatever mess she is tangling herself into. His mind seems to be going too fast for him to understand, enough to give him whiplash when his big palm smacks the surface of her counter when an idea takes over his head. “Tell your family that you’re going to spend the holidays with a friend, and we’re going to Chicago. I have to leave tomorrow, too…so…” Taking one look into her eyes, she sees the gaze of uncertainty that has taken over her since the moment they got married. His hands reach for hers, gripping to keep her grounded when he speaks a bit less quickly, taking his time to treat her with utmost tenderness. “I mean, if you want. My family would take you in nicely, and we’ll probably get an earful from my mom, but…we’ll be okay. We’ll have my old room to sleep in and we’ll get to play with snow, maybe become friends until we can get a divorce.” Once again, he stops on his train of thought. “Only if you want. You can go back home if you want to.”

The dinging noise of the coffee maker finishing its course is not enough to take her away from her trance of looking into his eyes. Her eyes are windows to the soul, he has heard, but hers is so meticulous it takes him the longest while to understand what she is feeling. Had he not seen her cry twice, he would have thought that someone like her doesn’t even allow herself to feel, and that is probably a reality. All she wants to do is be her own idea of perfection, seriousness becoming so attached to her that in the slightest moment she had let go, everything went wrongly. It didn’t help that she encountered Johnny along the way, one to take decisions in a hassle.

“You know what? I’m tired of crying here and wondering what I’m going to do with my life.” She mumbles, scratching the side of her head before nodding to herself. “I could go to Chicago, but if things get awkward or your family doesn’t want me there, I’ll stay in a hotel or something.”

“Sounds good to me.” He prompts, leaning forward to hold his pinky out to her. “Let’s say this right here and right now. We’re going to help each other until the day we part ways with that lovely divorce, okay?”

Wrapping her pinky finger around his, their wedding rings basically touch, a memory of the fact that neither of them has taken it off. Would it be wrong to, after all? “Together until the day I finally can have you out of my life.” She adds, though the joke remains in her face when she laughs at his face, watching as the man feigns a gasp.

“A lot of women would love to marry me!”

“…Sure, name one.”

“I can’t think of one yet,” Johnny claims, watching the brown coffee dropping inside his mug when she pours it down, the smell of fresh beans hitting his nostrils deliciously. “But I am sure there are many.” He finishes, earning a hearty laugh from the woman in front of him, throaty from the lack of use of her vocal chords.

Their lives are made a mess and conversely, they try to figure it out while helping her pack, his ears picking out the sound of her annoyance at the lack of preparation for this trip, reaching for her agenda to scribble down the major necessities and it is at that moment that he wonders how in the world their drunken selves had fallen for each other so hard that they had decided to get married. They are so different in their ways of living, even in the core of their souls, and still…still, one look at her makes him want to stay by her side, share his thoughts away like there had never been a barrier in between them. Conversation changes to laughter and ends up in silence, a cycle for them to continue evenly throughout their journey together.

Or not, because they are not really together.

💍

December 17th

“If you continue to grip my hand that tight, you’re going to cut my circulation off.”

“It’s what you deserve.”

Though the mumble she gives him is scared, nervous, terrified in its absolute definition. Nothing about her screams poised and steady, not that anyone would notice in the mid-December hustle of getting to their desired parts of the country or the world, all looking to connect with their loved ones…or even find new horizons for them to explore in such a packed time of the year. Johnny is snugly placed over his seat, relaxed and ready to take the short flight at the mere hours of the night—for he is always a lover of a nightly travel—, but his companion doesn’t look like she is even ready to be there. Period. There is no punchline.

The plane has barely lifted off the floor when she starts to grip his hand, clinging into his skin for dear life and when his widened eyes figure out the sight by his side, he realizes just how tightly she has closed her eyes and how her breaths are labored and quick. As they were waiting for their time to take off, she had mentioned in between a smile that she is a little bit scared of flying and heights and whatever else can be interfering in this moment of her life, but Johnny had never thought it would be this bad. Instead, he doesn’t ponder on his teasing, but he turns on his seat slightly, his face closer to her side in the need to start a conversation.

“Do you want me to talk about something so you don’t have to think about…you know, the plane?” In the glimpse of her thankfulness, she opens her eyes slightly to stare back at him and anyone who were to look at them would think that they are two lovers in a flight, one more scared than the other. The nod she gives him is enough confirmation, mouthing what seems to be a plea before Johnny makes it his mission to make her feel at ease. “Uh, so, this is something we actually haven’t talked about…” In reality, there is a plethora of things Johnny does know about her, some recently refreshed from her drunken night and others that he has gotten to hear directly from her gorgeous lips. All interesting, but never diving in her thoughts about romance. “Did you ever think about getting married?”

She battles a smile back, her lips puckering up slightly to let out a calm breath, only to close her eyes once again. “Way to go. Ask me about the thing that has me the most stressed out lately.” Johnny chuckles at her response, always one to remember the extreme decision they made.

“I’m taking your attention away from something slightly stressful so you can stress out about something else.”

Gripping his hand even tighter, now she takes the time to slot their fingers together, as if a collision of worlds suddenly pulls them together. They are two lost meteors in the universe, looking for a place to land on and destroy, but instead, they collided against each other and created a mess of speckles of dust around their universe. “To answer your question: yes, I thought about it, but I never wanted to get married.” Before Johnny could ask yet another question, she developed her answer more. “At the beginning of my life…I guess I did because it’s what I was raised to believe was proper,” Opening her eyes once again to look at him, she leans over a bit so she is partially feeling Johnny’s presence in her skin, wanting nothing more than for that flight to be over. “But then, I just hated the idea of it.”

“Me too!” Johnny agrees, nodding his head as if he has found his other half in such an enigmatic belief. “I think it’s just laughable. What’s the difference between just living together and getting married?”

Chuckling, she traces the outline of the veins in his hands with her free hand, probably to distract herself. “The wedding preparations, the actual wedding, the after-party, the pictures and the wedding rings.”

“We only had one of those out of that list.”

“I feel like you’re forgetting something, Johnny.”

Warm is the smile he gives her, moving the slightest bit as well so their faces are standing up close. Anyone would think that they are a couple spending their honeymoon in Chicago, but that is…not too far from the reality, actually. This probably counts as their only honeymoon and the last few bits they are going to have of marriage. He wonders, then, if there was ever a couple that divorced right after their happiest trip, but that is not important when he can count the moles around her face with his gaze and stare at the now more tranquil expression on her face. “What would that be, wifey?” The name makes her groan, hitting his shoulder various times as he tries to muffle his laughter.

“Don’t call me that.” She complains, though her eyes shift down to look at their interlocked hands. “What I was going to say before you said the most disgusting, fuckboy-ish thing you could say…” He can’t help but laugh at her, so stoic in her own way of living that he just loves to come by and destroy it. “We did have rings. I don’t even know where we bought them from…and I sure hope they weren’t too expensive—”

“They don’t look expensive.” She points out, staring at the gem-less rings wrapped around their fingers. “Should we take them off by now?”

Never in a million years would he have thought that he would give such an answer to a question, but maybe he just really lost his mind in Las Vegas and he is never going to hear back from it. “I think we should keep them on and be that gross couple that just holds hands to show off their rings.”

She chuckles at his words, shaking her head before leaning back on her seat once again. “Why are you so okay with this marriage if you hated the thought of it, too?”

“I like to believe this is life giving me a taste of my own medicine for making fun of my friends whenever they thought about marriage.” Johnny counterparts, earning an eye-roll from his wife, whose lightweight mindset shows in the way she breathes out with simplicity now, as if she is not in the middle of the sky and will be for three more hours or so. “Besides, life could have given you a worst husband. You got me.”

“That’s bad as it is.”

“Oh, come on. I was going to say you were pretty okay as a wife!”

“…You could be worse.” She teases, earning a nudge from Johnny before she reaches for his arm when the slightest bit of turbulence happens. The grip she has on him has her fingernails digging into his skin lightly, harsh breaths leaving her lips when she rests her forehead against his shoulder. Their hands remain together, looking at her when she lifts her gaze and licks her bottom lip. “Okay, you’re pretty good. I would have died if I was in this flight alone.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” Instead of his usual joking tone, she receives the warmest of memories in such a full and cold plane. Finally, she wraps the entirety of her arms around his, bringing her body closer until she hears him speak again. “I think we could watch a movie—”

For someone who did not want to get married, Johnny is not half a bad husband, not even a quarter of what would be considered terrible.

💍

December 18th

The sunrays had started to settle in their first morning in Chicago, stomachs full with whatever meal they found in a twenty-four-hour restaurant, eyes itching thanks to the everlasting pain of having to wait for their luggage to be given to them, taking even more time than what the flight from Las Vegas to Chicago had lasted. Johnny’s coat is draped over her shoulders even though she was wearing a cardigan when they had arrived to the airport, hands getting lost in the length of it, seeking for warmth as the cold breeze hits their skin, welcoming the dryness in the matter of seconds. Snowflakes fall upon their eyelashes, collecting the tiniest bit of coldness, more often than not he sees her wipe her eyes with the sleeve of his coat as they walk towards Johnny’s old house.

Or rather, the house in which his parents live in—no siblings, he had told her, but a lot of cousins he gets to see during the holidays. He even takes the time to point at the houses in the street, explaining his eventful stories from when he was younger and giving out the juiciest gossips about who dated who in the street or which families were the weirdest ones. Nonetheless, Johnny is enchanted to see her feet digging in the snow with each step, nervousness being casted upon their bodies but relaxed with their presence slowly and surely. Johnny knows that whatever the outcome is—and it will most likely be nice—, they are going to be together.

“Did you ever bring a girlfriend home for the holidays? Or just to introduce her to your parents.” The sound of her voice fills the air one again when he finally gets a glimpse of the front of his house, remembering the amount of times he had gotten home from school or simply sneaked out of it to go to a party. In reality, Johnny holds the best memories in that place.

He tilts his head to the side. “Not really.” He stops in his tracks once they are in front of the entrance door, turning to look at her with his hands pushed inside the pockets of his jeans. “There was one girl I brought home…my third girlfriend. Chelsea.” The reminder of such day has him cringing slightly. He was young, merely a teenager and far too enamored to even be real. “She was a cheerleader. My mom treated her nicely, but boy, did I get scolded. She didn’t like Chelsea all that much.”

Nervousness takes over her face for a few seconds, speaking lowly for them to hear. Even though he would be surprised if his mom is awake, given that it is six in the morning and the holidays are nearing. “…Do you think she will like me?”

“I think so, yes.” He doesn’t know why he thinks that way, but there is a fluttering in his stomach that tells him she is going to be liked by his entire family.

“Wait,” She stops him in his tracks when he is about to press his index finger to the doorbell, watching as he turns around to look at her. “You dated a cheerleader?” Johnny gives her a mere nod, a smirk appearing over his features when her frown marks down even more. “I don’t know why I expected otherwise. That just screams Johnny Seo.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, he stands powerful and prideful, simply because he knows there is a tint of jealousy in her voice. “Are you jealous because you’re not the first person I bring to my parents’ house?”

“What? No!”

“Chelsea was amazing, let me tell you.” Johnny continues teasing, laughing when her expression falls into one of slight frustration. Leaning forward, he speaks softly, the smoke that comes out of his lips a conclusion to the snowy day. Even when he is freezing, he is not going to lose the opportunity of feeding her a bit of her own plate. “Just like that Simon guy of yours. Lawyer,” He scoffs, watching her raise her eyebrows out of amusement. “Lawyer, my ass. He’s probably boring.”

“That’s a stereotype.” She adds, though a smile is plastered on her face and that is enough of an indication that he may be right. When he goes for the doorbell again, she interrupts him, as if she is looking for an excuse just so the meeting with his parents is pushed back a bit. “I can be a cheerleader.”

“I don’t see you as the type.”

“Yes, just watch.” One of her arms lifts up in the air, the other one resting on her waist with the most unexpected turn of events from someone as serious as her. The pose is not technically correct, but it definitely has him laughing and looking at her in admiration. “Give me a D!” She adds in a faux high voice, earning a chuckle from Johnny.

“D!”

“Give me an I!”

“I!”

“Give me a C and K!”

“C and K?” His laughter only doubles when he realizes what she is spelling, pressing his hand against his forehead when his eyes close. His stomach is starting to hurt a bit from his laughter, too.

“What does it say? Johnny!” When he meets her gaze again, he swears he sees embarrassment imprinted all over her features, shaking his head as he speaks.

“You’re just jealous.”

“You’re jealous of Simon, then.”

“Me? Jealous of Law and Order wannabe? No, baby, I’m not.” Johnny continues, finally pressing his finger to the doorbell, repeatedly doing so until he pulls away from the door. The sound of quickened footsteps makes his heart race, not exactly because he is nervous—though, there is a glint of that in his soul—but because he genuinely missed Chicago, his family and most importantly, his mother. The light of his eyes, the woman whose arms would wrap round him and give him the softest of hugs, who had loved him with such selflessness that he could only pay her back with pride.

…Not that getting married in Vegas is one of the things he prides himself in.

Opening the door quickly, the sight of his mother’s smile is the first thing he sees, followed by the auditory sense when she exclaims loud and clear. “Johnny, my boy! Welcome back!” It takes him two steps to reach her, hugging her tightly, wanting to feel like he is back home. Once he pulls away, he receives two pinches to the skin of his cheeks, his mother’s happy gaze turning to the woman now uncomfortably standing by the door. “Who is this lovely girl over here?” Well, that is an initiation…maybe, she will like his ‘wife’ after all.

Clearing his throat, Johnny rubs his nape in hopes of not getting kicked in the ass for what he is about to say— “A friend.” He starts, though one look at the rings on their fingers has him sighing. “…And my wife, but that is to be sorted.”

The smile on his mother’s face falls, the hand that was shaking the visitor’s coming to a halt when she takes a look in between the supposed couple, taking a deep breath before breathing out a low: “Your what, Johnny Seo?”

“…My wife, but I’ll fix it!”

That is how Johnny, his mother and his friend-but-also-wife end up seated on the kitchen table, with the apparent couple doing most of the talking as they explain the situation from their first meeting to their rendezvouses on trying to get their divorce, also the part in which she is scared to talk about this with her family and how Johnny wants her to have a nice, homely place to stay after bounding themselves together accidentally. Even when his mom served them coffee, exactly how he likes it with the one and a half teaspoons of sugar, he can’t find it in him to relax. His companion must be a thousand times worse.

Seeing the look of disappointment in his otherwise very warm and loving, extremely dotting, mother, feels like going through hell, his fingertips tracing the outline of the mug as he hears yet another earful from her. All she has to say are things that he already knows, irresponsibility creating a stain in his life, something that will never leave him no matter how hard he tries. Married in Vegas may be his new nickname by now.

Unexpected is the braveness that takes over his latest hook-up…or relationship, if that even counts anymore. Placing most of her weight on her forearms, resting on the table as her hands wrap around her mug, she takes the time to speak—better than Johnny could ever have, more poised, definitely the voice of reason in this apparent relationship. “Mrs. Seo…I know this must be very hard on you, just like it is difficult on us. We have talked about this endlessly and have cried, too. We…know just how wrong this is and we wish there was something else we could do, but for now, we have decided to be each other’s good friend and support the other through these hardships.” Even he is surprised by the tone of her voice, the relaxed expression on her face and that depth in her eyes that has his mother blinking away any kind of anger that had blossomed within her. Not completely, of course, but she is pleasantly surprised, as far as Johnny can tell. “I wholeheartedly apologize for, you know, marrying your son and coming here without your permission and I am extremely sorry this is the way we get to know each other, considering Johnny has talked wonders about you, Mrs. Seo.” And he has, something that he doesn’t do a lot with his hook-ups, but there is something about her that touches the verge of friendship, even though they haven’t known each other for long. Then again, the circumstances had pushed them to have to get along with each other. “I can find a hotel to stay, that’s the least of my worries, but I don’t want to ruin your holidays with your beloved son thanks to my ignorance in a drunken state. I want to apologize and promise that I am going to solve this, alongside Johnny, and get the divorce as silently and…efficiently as possible.”

 “Whoa, okay.” Johnny’s mother mumbles, blinking a few times before gripping her son’s hand over her table. “This boy you see right here is the love of my life, and I could never stay mad at him for long…but what you two did is irresponsible.”

“We know.” Johnny speaks, soon after looking down at the ring on his finger. “But we’ll hide it! All I want is to be able to be there for her.”

“No, that’s nothing you should worry about—” His supposed wife adds, shaking her head after taking a sip of her coffee. “I am happy I am here already and I can find something to do for the holidays. You already gave me an excuse not to have to meet my parents after such a…crazy decision, and that’s all I needed.”

Something within his mother must have changed, perhaps the warmth in Johnny’s eyes when he looks at her—the worry, the plea in his gaze for her to stay, as if he wouldn’t be able to rest if he doesn’t accompany her. Maybe, he is scared of the kind of disappointment that will settle on her soul, thinking of herself as less for making such an irrational decision, or he really wants to spend the littlest time he has with her. Nonetheless, Johnny continues pushing his thoughts forward, enticing her with a description of how good the holidays must be, how such a precious time of the year must be spent with people she feels comfortable with—

“Johnny, stop being so pushy. Let her breathe.” His mother indicates, standing up from her spot and rounding the table until she is able to wrap an arm around Johnny’s slender shoulders, pressing a taut kiss to the top of his head before sighing. “I know you’re a troublemaker. I definitely didn’t expect this kind of trouble to come from you, but you’re being responsible…and at least, you didn’t marry a bad person.” One look is given to the woman seated by his side, earning a small smile from his mother. “What we’re going to do is simple. I want to spend the holidays with my baby, as you may know…”

“Yes, absolutely. That is exactly what I wanted.” She corresponds, only to earn a tut from Johnny’s mother.

“…But you can also spend the holidays with us, and hotels are too expensive at this time of the year, you can stay in Johnny’s room with him. Only and if only, listen here well kids, only if you don’t speak a word about it to your relatives.” The narrative from his mother doesn’t sound too off, most likely wanting to hide such craziness.

“I can do that.” Johnny comments.

“You can say you’re friends.” She finishes, though Johnny feels her fingers pinching his ear lightly, earning a hiss from the man and a laugh from the visitor. “But sleep on the floor. I don’t want any more problems for the holidays. I’m…relaxing. Santa is coming. I don’t need any more trouble from you.” He wants to laugh, though he licks his lips and press them together to muffle his own smile. The feeling of the pinch goes soon after, followed by another kiss to the crown of his head, something that has Johnny’s cheeks tinting red. “You’re going to have to listen to your dad’s scolding once he comes back, you know?”

“I’m ready.”

The truth is…Johnny was definitely not ready.

His mother reacted badly and his father, after giving him an earful about decisions in life and how to make them in a clear state of mind, ordered him to wash his car in the middle of winter simply to teach him a lesson. The feeling of the water seeping through his shirt is enough to have him shivering, feet rushing through the warm living room to get to the bathroom and take the longest and warmest shower he can muster, but his footsteps slow down when he passes by the kitchen, watching his friend and his mother talking to each other and whisking some kind of substance—from the smells of it, Johnny is figuring out it’s eggnog, probably—. They seem to be in joyful terms, smiles plastered on their faces, something that had never happened in the past…and Johnny finds it ironic. Surely, he had been attracted to his…friend at the beginning, but personality-wise, she is not the type of person he would have imagined himself in a serious relationship.

Without thinking twice, his fingers hook around the doorknob of the bathroom, taking a towel with him and embarking in the moment of most glee of the day, the time where his muscles relaxed against the warm water. He would have never imagined himself to be a nervous person, but the twists and turns of life leave him dizzy. He doesn’t know where he is standing, what he will do, but to play pretend is the easiest way of getting everything done and over with. For now, all he has to do is keep at a friendly relationship with his wife and wait for the day their souls are separated in paper, space and connection.

Long is the shower he takes, wrapping a towel around his body and getting dressed in the comfiest of clothes, his thickest sweater and a pair of sweatpants. After an entire day of helping his dad with anything he so desires, he gets to look at his phone, responding the texts from his worried group of friends—Taeyong must have not kept the secret, given that Yuta has made a million jokes about the ‘first man to marry out of their entire group’. Anyone would have thought it would have been Taeyong…but hey, life is a comedy for Johnny nowadays, isn’t it?

With his back laying against his bed, time goes by quickly. His thoughts are interrupted when he hears the creaking sound of his door opening, lifting his gaze to look at his pajama-cladded friend. She looks at him with a shy look on her face, strange considering the extents of their relationship at that point, until the door closes behind her.

“Your mom went to sleep.”

“Good.” Johnny whispers, sitting up and placing his phone on the bedside table. He takes one good look at her before widening his eyes, standing up from the bed and going over to his closet. “I think I have a sleeping bag from when I used to go camping with my friends.” The man adds, not missing the frown on her face and fighting the smile on his features when he reaches up for the sleeping bag. He tosses it on the floor, unfolding it just in time to watch her hands resting on her hips.

“I’m sleeping on the floor?” Her voice is tiny, scanning the length of Johnny’s spacious bed covered in fluffy white blankets, matching the clear color of his walls. Whilst kneeling on the floor, Johnny nods his head, earning a nudge from her knee that collides softly against his shoulder. “You have to be a gentleman and let me sleep on the bed.”

“I had to wash a car, the entire house and help with the snow just because of our marriage. Don’t you think that is enough?” The smile on his face is now clear, a teasing tune in the song of his voice. She sighs deeply, rolling her eyes before sitting down on the floor and getting herself into the sleeping bag.

“You know what? Whatever. I’m not expecting you to be the best man here.” She wiggles around the sleeping bag a bit, the scowl on her face visible. Johnny’s fingers flutter against her waist over the fabric of the sleeping bag, though she moves away from him.

“I thought you said I could be worse.”

“Well, I was wrong. Is it surprising now?” She retorts, earning a joyful laugh from Johnny—that he tries to keep down because of the late hours of the night—. His arms hook around the sleeping bag, bringing it up until he is basically carrying her, hearing a small yelp escape her lips. “J-Johnny— Put me down, you jerk!”

And he does put her down, in the bed, gripping the edge of the sleeping bag to slide her away from it, resting it once again on the floor, just in time to take his covers in his hands to wrap her up nicely. “I was just joking,” He whispers, laughing at his own jokes before he pats the blanket around her neck, sitting down on the spot beside her before smiling. “You can sleep here.”

Her anger dissipates quickly, clearing her throat and breaking her gaze away. “Thank you.”

“I’ll sleep on the floor…alone…” He tuts, getting off the bed and going towards the sleeping bag. “In a small sleeping bag…because I’ve grown, like, twenty centimeters since the last time I used it…”

Rolling on her side, she hums at his words. “Good, suit yourself.”

Gasping, Johnny unzips the sleeping bag a bit more, getting inside it before chuckling. “At least turn off the lights, you.”

“I will, I will.” She retorts, going over to the switch and turning it off. Once the lights are off, Johnny tries to make out the figure of her, get some last words but instead, he is met with radio silence.

Even though they are together…and will be spending the holidays together, there is still such a thick line dividing them, unbreakable at this point.  

💍

December 20th

Sleeping during the holidays is the best situation he can find himself in, much more when the bed is emptied by the time he wakes up to pee and he can finally leave that stupid sleeping bag to the side to earn a few hours-worth of sleep. His hands come up to grasp at his head when he hears the sound of keys falling on the bedside table, as well as the feel of the bed dipping beside him and a hand resting upon his face. The delicacy that touches him comes from the fingertips that are running over his cheekbones and the serious voice that comes soon after.

“Johnny,” He knows that voice, he has heard it a lot in the past few weeks, and when she moves his shoulder, he keeps his eyes closed simply to bother her. Caring of her is to keep the curtains closed and to maintain the blankets covering him in such a cold day. His nose is runny thanks to the weather and with how much he has been going out lately, with his family and his friend, he doesn’t think he wants to step out today. Ice skating, grocery shopping, mall visiting, everything has been done in such little time and all energy is drained away from him. It feels like he is grounded. “Hey, wake up. I just came back from going out to run with your mom and we made you some breakfast.”

He expects her to say that his mom made him something, but hearing her add herself to the mix in there has him opening his eyes. She is against the contrast of the light, shadows casted upon her face when she looks down at him. Absentmindedly, his hands reach up to grasp her waist, the touch remaining there even when she would have commented about it in any other occasion. “Look at you, caring about me.”

“It’s not caring. It just makes me feel bad that your dad has made you done a shit-ton of stuff just because we got married.”

Johnny sits up at that, their faces almost touching when he speaks to her, but he backs down slightly at the reminder of morning breath. After all, they may be married…but it’s not actually a real marriage. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to accept you like me,” He teases, a big smile appearing over his face as he drags his blanket away from his body. “Which you do. You wouldn’t have slept with me during Sam’s wedding if it wasn’t because you…” The man places one hand over his heart. “Liked me.” He ends up in a sing-song tune, a slap being placed over his shoulder soon after.

“You give yourself too much credit.” She replies, though the grin on her face is visible when she stands up from the bed, only to hear him continue speaking.

“I do give myself credit. Not only did I seduce the most serious woman I’ve ever known in my life, but we also got drunkenly married…meaning that I must have been husband material in your big drunken mind.” He is joking around at this point, standing up from the bed just in time to hear the sound of her phone going off. His hands reach for it, looking at the contact asking to video-chat with her only to chuckle. “Ooh, guess who it is.” She takes the phone away from his grasp to look before covering her mouth with her hand.

“It’s Simon.”

“Pick up!” Johnny urges, widening his eyes slightly. “I want to see who I am competing with.”

“Ugh, shut up.” She places her own hand over his lips before picking up the call, directing her camera towards her to smile softly. “Simon! Hey, how are you doing?”

He tries to peek, to get closer and get a good glimpse of this supposed man, but what she does is move the camera away, a brief awkward giggle stuffing the air in its stiffness. “I’ve been doing great. You know, just work stuff…being a lawyer is not simple.” He compliments, more like self-boosts himself but maybe it’s Johnny’s mind speaking. As far as he knows, he may even be a nice guy. “I was on my way to your family’s house today when I heard you were not spending the holidays there. Guess I have to save my poetry book for another time.” Poetry book? Johnny scrunches his face up at the idea of the lawyer reading poetry to get to her heart and by the look on her face, she doesn’t seem too pleased either.

“Yeah, sorry for not communicating. I’m at my friend’s house at the moment. I’m spending the holidays with him and his family.” It is not exactly an excuse, if anything, they feel more like friends than lovers, but Simon doesn’t seem too pleased with the idea.

“You’re not spending the holidays with your family?”

���Uh, no, I figured—”

“That’s not good.” Simon indicates, interrupting her and bringing the biggest sigh out of Johnny. This man sounds like the human equivalent of a blank wall being painted white. “Did something happen with your family?”

“Not really.” She comments, swatting her hand as if it is nothing and she takes one look at Johnny now that her hand is not over his mouth, practically begging him to keep quiet. “I just wanted some time-out, you know, I’m in Chicago and it’s been great.” That should be enough to finish the conversation, but Simon seems to have something else to say.

“…Okay, that’s valid.” Simon continues, a brief chuckle leaving his lips before he asks something important to him: “What’s the name of this friend?”

“Johnny.”

“So…it’s a guy.”

“Yes. Guys and girls can be friends.”

“Not…in most occasions.”

“We’re friends. That’s enough proof.” Although, the man seems to go on a rant about his beliefs and whatever else crosses his head. In the matter of seconds, she is looking around the room to find some type of excuse just to cut the conversation short. “Ah, Simon, I’m going to have breakfast, okay? Let’s talk later.” Before he could even say his final goodbye, she cuts the video-call short, her breathing quickened after lying about something. After all, she doesn’t pride herself in her lying skills and she has said it plenty of times.

Johnny chuckles at her reaction, crossing his arms over his chest after taking her phone from her hand and placing it on the bedside table again. “Poetry and laws. Simon sounds like a whole meal.” He jokes around, a pointed glare thrown his way before a brief smile escapes the prison of her lips. “He sounds as interesting as a boiled egg.”

“He’s a nice guy,” She breathes out deeply, taking a look at her phone. “…He’s just been there forever. My family loves to have him around whenever I’m there.”

“You know, you don’t have to push yourself to like him.” Johnny confesses, now more serious than he has ever been, shrugging his shoulders after his statement. “I think it’s valid that you just want him as a friend, even though he seems to want you for more. It shows a lot that you had more chemistry with a guy you met at your client’s wedding than with someone who has tried to make you fall in love with him over and over again.” Because, in reality, Johnny thinks that whatever friendship they have is mixed with chemistry, this buzzing sensation of attraction that they have pushed away thanks to the situation and tasks at hand. He would be lying if he said he doesn’t find her attractive, even days after their first encounter.

“You’re right.” She accepts, wrapping her arm around his to drag him out of the room. “But let’s just not talk about my romantic life and just go get breakfast. It’s already difficult enough that I’m not single anymore.”

Johnny takes one good look at her before scoffing. “You still didn’t show me a picture of Simon. I need to kick his ass in every way possible.” She laughs at his antics, shaking her head at whatever he is saying. “Is he tall?”

“Not really…”

“Then, I’m already winning.”

Lately, he has noticed how well they get together despite their differences, the fun of bickering and bantering never leaving them as they go about the holidays. The days of their departure only get closer and yet, their souls seem more in synch that they could have ever been.

💍

December 22nd

Johnny is starting to believe there is some kind of favoritism going on in his parents’ household after he realizes the amount of love that is thrown to his ‘wife’ while he is out in the snow, making sure to leave some space for people to walk by, freezing his ass off even when there are fabrics over fabrics of clothing protecting him from the coldness.

His jet-black hair is barely seen under the beanie that covers it, thick and gray, pushing the long strands of hair down. The snow makes home out of the dry skin of his lips, resting upon his scarf even though he is trying to clear the snow as quickly as possible, arms and legs and hands moving in such a hassle that one would think he is working out. His spine connects with his skin in a shiver, making him breathe out softly as a cloud follows after the action, coming out of his lips in its soft nature. Something about this would have made him snap at any other time, but he enjoys the look he gets from his position, directly to the kitchen’s window where he can see her washing the dishes, singing to the tune of some song in such glee that anyone would have imagined she’s a lively person. In reality, taking a smile out of her is a damned task he has grown to love.

In the wake of his body from the coldness and eager to finish his work, he stops looking at her and takes the time to complete the task at hand, greeting the neighbors that pass by him, remembering the name of some and completely forgetting others. He doesn’t mind. Instead, he breathes in the smell of home, even when his lungs are fighting against the weather in Chicago at the moment. Every day there felt better, like this is exactly what he needed after years of working hard.

“Let me help you,” Someone speaks closer to him and when he turns around, he realizes that the woman that was washing the dishes just mere minutes ago is now wearing a big coat and gloves, taking another utensil to help him clear out the snow. If the snow feels like it is part of him in this eventful December morning, then she must be the epitome of winter when she gives him a smile, half-covered by the scarf around her neck. “You’re taking too damn long and I was getting tired of having you staring at me instead of clearing the path.”

“…You saw that?” Johnny asks, unaware that she could even see him when she was supposed to be washing the dishes. She nods her head, humming at his words soon after. “You just look cute today. Excuse me for admiring the art.”

A playful smile splays over her face before she takes a handful of snow from the ground, tossing it at him in a half-done ball for it to hit him directly on his chest, dusting his clothes in the whitest of snow. “Shut up with your cheesy lines. All you have done since you met me is flirt with me, it’s annoying!” Though, she chuckles at her masterpiece created by the snow, painted on his chest and making him kneel down to take two handfuls of snow.

“You are too ungrateful.” Cradling her body to stop the snowballs from hitting her, it doesn’t work because Johnny has already hit her twice, earning a gasp from her when she tries to fight back.  “I’m calling you cute all the time and treating you like a princess and you’re complaining?!”

“You’re just too greasy!” She complains, their vision basically white with the amount of snowballs they are throwing at each other. It’s childish, it definitely is, a glimpse of exactly what she has lost in the last few years, when adulthood clouded everything around her, turning it gray, white and black. “Stop it!” By the time he nears her, the smile he sports is hers and only hers, only caused by the sound of her voice. His glove-cladded hands grip at her wrists, the attack stopping just in time for him to look into her eyes.

“Why don’t you let me compliment you?” He asks, voice dropping slightly to whisper to her. Her eyes flutter and snow falls on her cheeks, causing the two to laugh.

“You’re just so…insolent about it.” The comment has him chuckling, his eyes staring up and down her features to catch every glimpse of her. She is shining even in such a gloomy weather, body eager to help him out through his turmoil, lips a darker shade thanks to the weather. All he wants to do is give a kiss and it must have shown in the way she scoffs soon after. “Like this, you’re looking at me so diligently that I’m starting to believe you get paid for it.”

“I wish.” He continues, looking around to see that there is not much more for him to do. “But you can go back. There’s only a little bit of snow left in the entrance and I can clear that out in no time.”

“I want to help you.”

“You’re insolent, too.” His words fight back and she smacks his shoulder, making him look at her with innocence coating his expression. And that’s new, for Johnny is one hell of a tease. “I didn’t hurt you, didn’t I? I was just throwing snowballs and not really looking if they landed on your face or something—”

“I’m okay. I’m not a doll.” She starts to help Johnny out when he lifts his gaze from the ground.

“You sure look like one, beauty.”

“Johnny Seo, shut the fuck up! God!”

With the holidays nearing and the obnoxious sound of Christmas carols playing all around the street, the only source of sanity he has left is to tease her.

💍

December 24th

Pretending is easy. Long gone is his ring in the depths of the vanity in his room as he talks to his cousins, more often than not taking part in a PS4 tournament with that infamous game of FIFA that has him rolling his eyes once or twice. He enjoys it, though, the smell of sweetness in the air, the sound of his littlest cousins cheering and laughing while running around the house, the heat in the room more palpable thanks to his mother’s cooking and just hearing his father laugh and talk to his family is enough to make him feel at ease. Somewhere by his side, always lingering with him, is the woman that now every part of his family knows as his friend…and the worst part is that he thinks he is doing a great job in making them believe that they are just friends. Good, old friends that wanted to spend Christmas time together and he simply decided to bring her over.

The thing is that his most gossip-obsessed of aunts is looking at them as they sit down on the couch, trying to embark in conversation about how exactly they became friends. He has practiced this but he even stumbles a bit over his own words, finding it difficult to create a story for someone who was clearly not his longtime friend. More often than not, he catches a glimpse of her mortified expression, though well dressed and put together with how beautiful she looks.

Surely, Johnny is used to the button downs and making himself look better for the holidays, but the way her dress hugs her body and the up-do in her hair that had taken her far too long to ever be worth it had him taking a few glances at her and wondering if he’s just a lucky man for making such a mistake with a well-rounded person. Serious, nicely spoken, responsible and clearly gorgeous, though just a friend…because if he ever dares to whisper something to her to tell her just how beautiful she looks, then his relatives are going to be suspicious.

His oldest aunt from his mother’s side speaks in a high tone, probably having drunk too much eggnog. “Johnny, can you go look for your cousin’s present? I left it in the storage room and I don’t think I’m able to stand up from this bed.” The cackle that follows her statement has Johnny chuckling, giving the controller of the videogame to one of his teenage cousins before dusting his hands over his pants.

“Sure. Is it the only present there?”

“It is.”

The situation worsens how it shouldn’t have when the woman with the beautiful pink dress stands up from her spot to speak up. “I’ll go with you.” She tells him, earning a glance from the gossip aunt that is now raising her eyebrows at the statement. Johnny is smiling, clearly because she is far too uncomfortable to stay alone with his family—his mother and his father are fine, they have talked to her endlessly in the days that she has been staying there, but his cousins, uncles and aunts are far scarier—. “Two heads work better than one?” She tries to reason, only to make Johnny laugh, nodding his head as he extends his arm to point out where she should go.

“Let’s go, then.”

The storage room is closer to the attic than it should be, small in size and with one dangling light that still scares Johnny to no end. Thankfully for him, he has someone to accompany him in the room that he feared when he was a child. He pushes the door open, turning on the lights and looking around the shelves to see that in the highest one, the present is standing with a thin layer of dust covering it.

“Oh, shit, your aunt probably thinks we’re together now.” She mumbles, closing the door behind her and watching the expanse of Johnny’s back as he reaches up for the present, holding it in his hands once he turns to look at her. He is grinning, though, unbothered by life…like he always is.

“I’m sure everyone in this household thinks we are together by now.” That rips a groan out of her throat, guttural when she steps away from the door to open it, only to be stopped by Johnny’s hand.

“I’m just not a good liar, you know this!”

“I know,” He blinks softly, holding the gift in between his ribs and his arm as he leans forward to stand in front of her. Their breaths are mixing by now, his smelling like all the sweets he has had and hers lingering with something spicy, perhaps one of the meals his mother had insisted on her to try (“I would ask Johnny, but you have way better taste than him.”, she had said in front of his entire family and the only thing he could bring himself to do was argue in between a whine). She stares back at him, all poise thrown out of the window as bewilderment takes place for it.

“What?” She whispers, pointing with her index finger around her face. “Is there something on my face? I didn’t even do my makeup properly because my arms hurt so bad after spending hours doing my hair.”

“You know, I know we are not technically married or together by any means. We’re friends, right?” She nods her head at his words, making Johnny bite down on his bottom lip when he nears her the slightest bit. “But I want to tell you, taking the chance of it being Christmas and having to thank all the things Santa has brought me this year, that you’re truly one of the most beautiful people I have ever met.” Though, it is widely seen on her face that she is about to thank him, brushing it off as a simple compliment about her appearance—Johnny gives her plenty of those, but this one is deeper than that. “You’re the most given photographer, an incredible artist in that part of your life…but you’re so responsible and so careless…it’s amazing.”

“You’re just saying that to say it.” She gives her piece of mind, looking at Johnny’s features up and down. They are so separated by fear, the intoxication that comes not from alcohol—though, that was their beginning—but because there is an electricity between the two, magnifying in the way it makes them dizzy, pulling them together like opposites. “But thank you. I think you’re…great, as well.”

“I’m not saying it just to say it,” Johnny mocks her voice, a hearty laugh reaching his ears. “I mean it. Drunk or not, I thought you were beautiful when we first met and after we got…well, married, I got to know you better and I am not drunk now, neither was I any of those days we’ve spent together after that. I think it’s safe to say I mean it.” Those words are so different from anything she has heard Johnny ever say, straightening his back the moment she asks a big question.

“If we hadn’t been drunk, would you still have hooked up with me?”

Huffing, he answers immediately. “Of course!” Soon after, he takes one look at the door, hearing the sound of music pumping in the background before lifting his gaze. “…Would you?”

“I wouldn’t have gotten married, for sure…but I would have.” As always, she balances out her answer, the pros and the cons and Johnny can’t help himself but laugh, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to her cheek, soon after hearing her groan. “Ugh, Johnny, don’t be sappy!”

“I’m just happy. You thought I was attractive drunk or not!” Johnny adds, his tall height making his head bump against the light on the ceiling. Laughter follows his action, making her eyes shine under the dim light.

“You deserve it for being so cocky.”

Opening the door, Johnny speaks up. “Let’s leave before my entire family thinks we are having sex in my storage room.” She scrunches up her nose, stepping forward and feeling Johnny press a fleeting kiss to her shoulder before walking in front of her.

It is not a surprise when they end up posing next to each other in the family picture at the end of the night.

💍

December 29th

In his mind, even when his eyelids are close, he can still make out the feeling of her side pressed to his chest, the light of the TV in his room casting down on their bodies as they watch yet another Christmas film. It’s far too late, the holiday is changing to one of leaving this year in closure, but he still enjoys the clichés, the terrible plots of most of them and the infamous red and green aesthetic that is imprinted in everything they can muster. Even now, when silence has taken over the entire house, the moon is resting its light upon his curtains and his back is uncomfortable pressed to the sleeping bag, his pillow being the only source of comfort, he can’t help but wonder if she’s just as buzzed as he is from the laughter, the endless conversation, the warmth of such intimacy in the name of friendship.

While his eyes remained close, he fixes the pillow under his head, fluffing it out and turning to the side to face the mattress, the one that she sleeps on—and belongs to him, in reality, not that he doesn’t remind her every single day—. He knows that she just wants to get that marriage over and done with, and so does he; it feels weird to be husband and wife when they are barely getting to know each other and it leaves pressure on their shoulders from an unfound love, but still, he completely enjoys her presence, both romantically and in the sense of their friendly union.

Sometimes, he wonders if life had it planned…something to wake Johnny up from his state of irresponsibility, only to show him that adulthood could also have a fun side to it.

It planned for her to learn that not everything had to be serious, that the worst of outcomes can come with a smile after some time.

The sound of his cranium hitting the floor has him opening his eyes widely, staring at the woman in front of him that is holding his pillow in between his fingers, having slipped it from under his weight. He sits up on the floor, touching his head as pain blossoms in lightness, though she hisses from her actions. “Sorry.”

“Are you taking my pillow away now? Because that’s all I need.” Johnny adds sarcastically. Nevertheless, he watches as her hand extends for him to take, palm opened and showcasing that damned ring that still keeps them together. It is a piece of trash, really, but both of them sport it like a reminder of why they are together and why they should keep supporting each other through hard times. He takes it, gradually standing up from the floor as she speaks.

“I’m sorry. I just didn’t know how to tell you…” She mumbles, looking up at him when he is fully standing next to the bed. “I feel bad for making you sleep on the floor, so I was going to tell you that we can share the bed.”

Though appealing, he doesn’t want to cross any boundaries that she has set for a reason. “I’m comfortable in the floor. I sleep like a log.”

“Johnny—” By this point, she has been seeing him the twenty-four hours of his days for a few weeks and she knows better than to believe him. The blankets are peeled away from the bed, showing the side that she had made for him, now with a pillow for him to take. “I want you to sleep with me, come on.”

He knows what he means when he settles down on her side, sharing the blanket in the space that watched him grow from tall to taller. “That’s what you said and now look,” He lifts his hand in the air, showing his ring. “I’m Mr. Married.”

“It’s not that kind of sleeping, dumbass.” She whispers and silence follows soon after. He hears moving from her side of the bed, limbs becoming uncomfortable until her legs interlock with his and her arms end up draped over his waist. “I’m so sorry for putting the blame of this entire situation on you,” The words are weighty, serious just like her, but she has never been the type to apologize. Instead, he opens his eyes to see her calm expression, closed eyes and tight soul clear to his vision. “You have been nothing but kind to me. You took me to your parents’ house, like, I wouldn’t have done that— And your family is so nice to me, I can’t thank you enough.” She opens her eyes to look at him, blinking the feelings away when Johnny hums, wrapping his long arm around her shoulder.

“You helped me out so much, too. I needed a wake-me-up call. I always think I can go against the world and nothing will happen. You were a lesson, a tough one.” He includes, sweet giggles following his statement before his plush lips kiss the top of her head. “We’re here for each other, okay? Even after the divorce. I’m going to be calling you from Seoul whenever I can.”

“I’ll send you pictures of my real wedding when it happens.” She jokes around, feeling a kick on her leg when Johnny reacts to it.

“I can say I was the first husband, huh.”

“First accidental husband.”

“I sure hope it’s the last. I don’t want you going through this again.”

Though, Johnny would meet her again if the case was given—without the drunken night, but to see the real side of her, apart from a serious expression behind a camera that awakens the lust within him. He would have loved for things to happen differently, to welcome their friendship from the start and see where it leads, but nothing could be changed now and the year only neared the moment in which they could finally pull away, his arrival to Seoul and his goodbye to his marriage.

His goodbye to his friend.

💍

December 31st

“You know, we could always meet during the holidays, even if it’s for one day. I always come to Chicago on December.”

The sight of the man by her side is the complete opposite of what she would have ever thought of Johnny Seo to be like, holding his baby cousin in his hands as he pats the baby’s back, humming a lullaby in between hushed words. The technique is not perfect and Johnny is definitely not the type of man that she ever sees as a parent, but it is definitely surprising…and beautiful, in its own way, to see him care about someone else other than himself. Egocentric is how she imagined him to be, and now he is proven he is a little bit so…but not enough to be the example of the definition.

In front of them, as they are seated in the backyard of Johnny’s house, they watch the lit sky after the fireworks that had waken his baby cousin up from her nap and the only person that was able to get her back to sleep was Johnny, strangely enough. The moon is bright, the stars are dancing and she is trying not to smile in longing as she remembers that in the first week of January, they will have to go to Las Vegas, hope that they can finally sign their divorce and finally, they will be able to simply…forget about each other.

Johnny has expressed just how against the idea of stopping their friendship he is, but she knows that there is this lingering voice in the back of her head, a reminder of the type of person Johnny demonstrated her she can be and the type of person she really is. “I am afraid of becoming attached to this, Johnny.” She mumbles, playing with the grass under her fingertips, looking away from his gaze in fear of the words she is going to say. Everything had been beautiful, from the dinner to the chatter, from the decorations to the warmth atmosphere around the household. It had never been like this; it had always been idle and silent, the holidays are not supposed to be her happiest time of the year. “…You have given me the best time, ever.” She tells him, finally lifting her gaze to see Johnny is gazing at her, his expression tranquil yet puzzled. “And I thank you for that, but…I miss my family and I am not this type of person. I’m serious and I don’t laugh a lot, I don’t play with snowballs and I don’t spend entire evenings watching movies. I learned to suppress that and I am afraid that if I get used to being your friend, I’ll become attached to feeling free.”

Johnny’s eyes soften at that, lifting his hips slightly to sit closed to her, his knees coming up to rest on his cousin’s back for support. “You don’t have to suppress anything. Anyone who likes you as you are will accept you.” The comforting words lift the weight of the night off their shoulders, the midnight of the first day of the year, merging from the past and the future. “And I like you. All I’m saying is…we stayed together because we’re friends, not because it’s what lovers do. Even though I wouldn’t mind a kiss or two…if you ever need me, I’m going to be here. As your friend. Through the phone, from Seoul, attending to my ex girl.” Of course, anything has to end in a joke with him and she reaches up to muffle her laughter, shaking her head at his words.

“I can do that, too.” She confesses, resting her forehead against Johnny’s shoulder, one already taken over by the sleepy head of his cousin. “Now I understand why she likes sleeping on your shoulder. Bony but comfortable.”

“Ah, shut up.” Johnny argues softly, looking forward before sighing. “Just two weeks until we can finally call this off. Are you excited?”

“Yes,” Though, the continuation is the most important part. “I can’t say I won’t miss you once you go back to Seoul, though.”

“I’ll miss you, too.”

💍

January 19th

Gliding the pen with his signature across the divorce papers is far easier than he would have ever thought it was, or maybe that thought came from the fact that he had spent days roaming around Las Vegas and looking for the intended papers for the procedure to be done that had made him so tired he didn’t even think twice to sign down on the paper. His plus one does look at the paper with distress displayed on her face, trying to figure out if this is an ending or a comma, a dot with continuation or just the imminent death of the worst mistake of her life. The answers remain unknown to both of them, stepping out of the office to look back at the city that had watched them like two people who had fallen in love with just one night, so fed up with the feeling of each other that they had to go to the extreme to feel alive. Sometimes, Johnny wonders that if anything would have gone any differently, he would have consequently asked her out on a date and gotten more of a grasp of the situation, but everything happened for a reason.

Fixing the sunglasses that end on the bridge of his nose, Johnny parts his hair away from his face, undergoing small conversation that distracts them from the fact that they are no longer two. They are not anyone’s husband or wife, but they also don’t have a reason to be with one another. There is no one to support, no relationship to fake, no friendship to last. They are two strangers once again, tremendously attracted to each other but with no reason to ever go back to each other. Seoul screams for him, parties are his way of feeling alive and she has to stay here, in Las Vegas, watching the city lights as she locks herself in her room to work in some picture editing.

It shouldn’t feel this…incomplete, like there was more for them to live, more air for them to breathe together, more laughter to give. Johnny’s hands grasp for the keys of his rented car, licking his lips when the silence takes a bit too long to be cut short. “Ah, I think we could go have some lunch to celebrate?”

“Sorry, I have to catch up with work.” The disappointment in her voice is clear, watching as she hides her hands in the pockets of her coat. “You could drive me there, though.” They are trying to hold on to what doesn’t exist, the comfort that they had looked for just for the sake of a ring. A ring that he took off his finger in the early morning, though he can see hers is still snugly placed on its spot.

“Get on, then, beautiful.”

“Here we go again. Divorced, and yet you are trying to seduce me.”

“It never works, just let me live.”

Listening to songs is not far as important as getting a laugh out of her and maybe, this is life really mocking him. He is not in love, far too soon to even call it that, but he definitely infatuated with her, wishing for a last goodbye and a reminder of the woman she likes the most that is not bitter. Taeyong would probably coo at the sight of Johnny’s expression whenever he stares at her, Jungwoo would be confused as to why someone like Johnny would even do such thing and he swears he can hear the laughter of his roommate, Yuta, once he tells him the entirety of the story while sharing bites of their favorite pizza, but as of now…he can only think of the present. The present is everything they have, the only certainty they could grasp, and the future simply reads impossibilities for the two of them.

Watching her get off the car shouldn’t be difficult, much less when she goes over to his side and leans down for him to open the window. She looks at him, inspects his face even though he asks what is wrong, trying to lighten the atmosphere even though his smile doesn’t last long. Something feels unfitting, like all the decisions they took throughout their story were wronged, always thinking too little, never thinking enough.

It comes to him in a blast, electrifying him when her lips press down into his without him even asking. He doesn’t remember much of the only time they kissed, though repeatedly in that night, but it comes crash down on him. The softness of her lips, the taste of her favorite lip-gloss, the feeling of her arms wrapping around his neck as she drags him down, deeper, deeper, deeper. Johnny has never been kissed like this, with so much need but so much patience, like she wants to savor anything and everything that he can give her. Her fingers trace the outline of his jaw, noses bumping softly when he tries to twist his head to the side, grasping the back of her head in hopes to keep her there…because two more days and Johnny will be gone. The memory of Las Vegas will simply be washed in the name of reality.

Is this what he wanted?

“…I expect to see you on December, okay?” She whispers against his lips, caging his bottom lip with a bite when she breathes out softly. “If you’re not coming here, I’m going to Seoul. I…just want to see you again.”

This is what lovers do, real lovers, seeking for each other and longing for the few seconds they have left. When she finally pulls away, Johnny grips on her hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it before chuckling. “Told ya you would want to see me again.”

“Can you not ruin the moment for once, Johnny Seo?” But her laughter is far too joyous for him to even consider she is mad, taking a few steps back until she waves at him. “Bye, you dick.”

“Don’t you mean see you later?” He smirks, his hands resting upon the steering wheel.

“I’ll mean I’m glad I divorced you if you don’t stop talking.”

Once she is away from his sight, he catches himself smiling.

Maybe, his time in Las Vegas wasn’t the worst time of his life. He’ll cling on to the next December, and figure out how true that statement is.

#johnny scenarios #johnny #nct scenarios #nct #kpop scenarios #writing #nct fluff #nct au #johnny fluff #johnny au #nct angst #johnny angst #accidental marriage!au #so there it is #my last fic of the year #wHOOOO #i didn't mean for it to get this long it was a lot shorter #but i had to develop the situation u kno #it's a difficult situation #tell me what you think i worked so hard to get this done it was tiresome lol

[namluve]

↳ 4th floor | hyunjin x reader | 1.8k | drabble | 18+ genre: smut with a lil fluff, established relationship warnings: soft dom!hyunjin, sub!reader, unprotected sex, fingering, dirty talk, praise, possesivness, size kink, low-key exhibitionism, a little spit play, a little spanking

your boyfriend is a little distracted by you when he comes home from one of his morning runs. It’s a good thing the two of you live on the 4th floor. 

note: danica you beautiful, talented, perfect minx. happy birthday!! I hope you enjoy this as a little bird told me you were starting to get into hyunjin and I only inteend to make it worse for you. enjoy my love <3 

beta read by the lovely @btsxdoll​ and looked over by @meowxyoong​, thank you both so much <3 

Hyunjin was tall, and he loved to use it to his advantage. Placing your favourite cup on the highest shelf, loving how you struggled reaching it. Sometimes even asking for his help. His tall lean body leaned over yours as he brought it down for you. His face a little close to yours for it to just be an innocent act.

You liked to mess with him as well. Bringing the showerhead down so he would almost hit his head on it whenever he stepped into the shower. An annoyed sigh leaving his lips as he had to readjust it again.

It was all fun and games for the two of you, no one was really bothered by it. You teased each other quite often. It made living together more fun and at times, the perfect opportunity to use your height difference for the better.

You didn’t think Hyunjin was home today when you climbed up the countertop to get your cup. Hyunjin had just gotten back from his morning run when he saw you in the kitchen, right hand reaching for the cup placed neatly on the top shelf. His white shirt from yesterday that you were wearing rose up at your attempt to reach the cup. Showing off your black lace panties perfectly for him. The sight awakens a certain desire in him.

As he let out a groan, he went over to you. His presence startled you at first. His front pressed against your back as he reached for the cup. He effortlessly brought it down, placing it on the counter beside you. When you turned around, you smiled.  Placing a quick kiss upon your boyfriend’s lips. Muttering ‘thank you’ to him.

“Why didn’t you just ask for my help?” He asked, taking hold of your thighs with his hands. Dragging you to the edge, placing himself in between your thighs. You placed your hands on his shoulders, finding balance and comfort. Feeling his half hard cock press against your core. Your eyes fluttered as you looked up, meeting his eyes. His head was still above yours, despite the fact that you sat on the kitchen counter.

“I didn’t know you were home.”  You honestly replied and Hyunjin hummed, closing the distance between you two. He kissed you passionately. One hand on your thigh as the other one gently took hold of your face. One of your hands sneaked its way into his hair. Tugging his hair lightly, his long hair getting tangled more and more for every second that passes.

Hyunjin hands moved to the inside of your thighs, parting them even more. Making more space for him between your legs. They then went over to your butt, dragging you even closer to the edge. His cock now pressing against your pussy. Earning a moan from you as you feel the tingles going down your whole body. Your body was ready for whatever he wanted to do with you.

Breaking the kiss, Hyunjin took a second to look at you. His t-shirt that you were wearing was still on. Covering way too much for his liking. Taking hold of him, he pulled it from your body. The fabric dropping to the kitchen floor.

Panicked, you looked out of the window, covering your boobs. “What if anyone sees?” You gasp at your boyfriend’s sudden attack on your breasts as he takes hold of your wrists. Holding them on either side of your body.

“Let them,” he growled. His mouth working diligently on your nipples. Kissing, sucking, biting down slightly. He earned those sweet moans that came from your mouth with each tug, kiss and bite. Marking you up as he always would.

“Let them see what a good girl you are for me. Always letting me play with you anywhere and everywhere. Because you are my good girl, aren’t you?” At his words, your body felt as if it were burning up. You craved to be as close to him as possible. To have him in you. To feel him as deep in you as possible.

Besides, your apartment was on the fourth floor. There wasn’t even that high of a chance anyone could see you. You were also way to horny to be thinking about that now.

“Please…” You mewled and Hyunjin stopped playing with your boobs. A loud pop was heard as he let go of the nipple he was playing with. A smirk on his lips as he let go of your wrists. One hand moving to take hold of your face gently, the other one pinched down on your left nipple, hard.

Crying out, you arched your back, pressing your chest towards him. Kissing your forehead softly, Hyunjin let go of your nipple and moved his hands in between your thighs. His point finger making light traces on your bundle of nerves over the fabric covering your core.

“Look at me,” he commanded, and you opened your eyes. You hadn’t even noticed you’d closed them in the first place. Looking him in the eyes as he pulled your panties to the side, his point finger tracing your folds. Collecting wetness to work on your bundle of nerves. Moaning, you almost closed your eyes as he began circling it.

“Nah ah, stay with me baby.” His voice got deeper as his gaze intensified. Eyes set on your face to watch your reactions. With your mouth open, Hyunjin took the opportunity to move the hand on your face slightly more towards your chin. His thumb entering your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. Your spit started to drool down your face.

“You’re a messy girl, aren’t you?” He asked, taking his thumb out of your mouth. Wiping your spit around your lips.

“For you.” You answered and your boyfriend was more than pleased with it. Moving the finger that was tracing your clit to the entrance to your pussy. Tracing it lightly before he let it slip inside. His finger easily entered you with how wet you were.

“Are you this wet for me too?”

“Yes, only you.” You quickly answered. Your eyes almost flutter close again once he let a second finger slip inside you. Fingering you at a slow pace, moving his fingers in and out before he started scissoring you. You clenched your pussy at the blissful feeling, feeling the hand that Hyunjin was holding on your face leave. Only for it to lightly slap your thigh.

“I need you to focus and relax. How’s my dick supposed to fit inside you if I can’t stretch you out properly?” Upon his words, you took a deep breath. This wasn’t the first time Hyunjin had spanked you in order to ground you, to make you focus. He was big, you both knew that and if you wanted him inside you, had to relax. You knew that.

Your boyfriend would always take his time preparing you. Making sure you were ready for his dick as he never wanted to hurt you. Stretching you out until you were begging him to just fuck you already. His skilful fingers drawing out moans and pleas from you.

“You think you ready for me baby?” He asked, wanting to verbally hear your consent, to know you truly wanted this. On the kitchen counter, where anyone could see you getting fucked if they looked up towards your window.

“Yes please.”

“Just give me a sec baby, then I’ll give you all that you want.” Hyunjin said as he removed his shirt, sweatpants and boxers. Letting them drop to the floor. Taking hold of your panties, he removed them. Adding them to the pile of clothes on the kitchen floor.

“Breath for me baby.” He said, caressing your face with one hand as the other one was wrapped around his dick. Guiding the tip to gently enter you. Your wet walls welcome his dick as he pushed it further and further inside of you. Standing still when almost all of it was in, allowing you to get used to his size.

“Such a good girl, always taking my dick so well.” He praised, stroking your hair as he placed a gentle kiss upon your lips. Starting to thrust into you when you started to whine and move your hips. Begging him to fuck you good as he always would.

With deep and slow strokes, Hyunjin fucked you closer and closer to your orgasm with each trust. Hitting your g-spot with almost every thrust, you were an incoherent whimpering mess for him. Just like he wanted you to be.

His hand going down to play with your clit as he felt you clenching around him. Pulling you closer to him. Your body almost limp with all the pleasure you were feeling. Your head is lying against his chest. Putting your complete trust in him. In that he would hold you both up. The sweat on your body slowly dripping down upon the kitchen counter.

“You close baby? Wanna cum with me?” He asked and you just moaned loudly, unable to speak as you felt yourself being pushed right to the edge. Speeding up, Hyunjin thrusted harder into you, his fingers on your clit going a little faster but still with the same light pressure. Drawing you over the edge. A tear slipping down your cheek as you came. Hyunjin came closely after as he felt you clenched so deliciously around his dick. 

His movements on your clit slowed down, letting you ride your high for as long as possible. Only removing his fingers once you start to move your body away from him. Oversensitivity kicking in soon after your orgasm had faded. 

Both panting and holding onto each other, you took a moment to just catch your breaths. Enjoying each other's embrace before you were painfully aware you were in your kitchen, where anyone could see you. 

“Shit, people can see us.” You mutter, looking outside through the window. No one in sight as far as you’re concerned. A sigh of relief left your lips. Hyunjin looked towards where you were looking. Quickly realizing what you were referring to.

“Oh yeah… we should totally shower as well... I’m all sticky from my run and this didn’t make it any better.” You scoff at his words, lightly slapping his chest. His face turning towards yours, slightly offended with a baby pout on his lips. 

“Yeah, and who’s idea was it to do it in the kitchen?” You asked and he only smiled, moving closer to your ear as he whispered. 

“And who was it that begged me to continue?” 

That was the first of many times you and Hyunjin would take advantage of the kitchen counter. You might have even pulled the panty t-shirt trick one more time… or two… Your mornings become way more interesting than they were before. 

#kpopscape #stayhavennet #skz smut #skz fanfiction #hyunjin smut #hyunjin fanfic

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of Black Lives Matter, @nigeltde-fic donated $25, and requested Sam & Dean & amnesia. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

The gorgon hits Dean in the head and Sam panics because he always panics, when Dean’s bleeding and not responding, but that’s not the worst part. Dean’s bleeding and he won’t wake up, and Sam drives as fast as he can possibly drive--faster--and Sam carries him from the car to the bed and he still won’t wake up, and that’s not the worst part. Sam touches his face and the panic’s become this solid untouchable thing that fuzzes everything else in the world out to weird impossible static, and Dean flinches under his touch and seizes and he’s still bleeding because it’s a head wound, and head wounds bleed like a bitch but Sam remembers Dean telling him when he was fourteen and trying not to cry it’s not that bad, Sammy, it always looks worse than it is, it’s just blood, it’s okay--only it is bad, and it’s worse than it looks. Michael drains out of Dean’s body with the blood like a cracked bottle of whiskey spilling all over the floor, and Michael takes Rowena, and Michael kills all the refugees who were Sam’s responsibility, and Jack then kills Michael--kills Michael, the monster haunting Dean’s eyes and Sam’s dreams gone in a flash--but that’s something Sam can’t look at, right now--because Dean sits up in the infirmary, shocked and blinking and scared, and he says to Sam, “Sam?” but he looks around too and says, “What is this place?” and he says, “Sam? Sam, what happened? Where are we?” and Sam closes his eyes and thinks, no. No.

It’s a week, of taking care of the bodies. Trying to contact any friends they had, who might’ve known them from that other world, who might want to come and stand witness to their burning. Dean helps, because he has two hands and no matter what it seems that an essential part of him wants to be useful, but he doesn’t feel it. Not really. Sam chops wood and sets Dean to building, and Dean does, and sneaks uncertain looks at the strangers who sit miserable in their home, stands just behind Sam’s shoulder during the funerals, says constantly: who are they? what happened? Sam? Sam?

Sam doesn’t know what happened. Cas has examined Dean (Jack wanted to but they didn’t let him, uncertain of his raw golden-grace power), and Sam’s been as gentle as he can with his questions, and they called back Rowena, even, from her terrified flight, and none of them have an answer. Dean knows Sam, and nothing else. Not Castiel, not the bunker, not hunting. Not their mother, and Mary’s mouth trembled as she smiled at Dean, told him that it was okay, that she was sure he’d remember one day. She left again, that night, and Dean sat in Sam’s room and said, “Why can’t I remember,” with his head in his hands, and Sam didn’t have an answer to that, either.

The funerals over and Sam can’t seem to ditch the smell of ash. Burning flesh. Like pork, singed on a barbecue, and it makes him nauseous in the middle of the night, makes him stand over his sink with his gut heaving but he doesn’t puke. He breathes, eyes closed, mouth filling up with spit, and walks the empty corridors of the bunker alone. Mom’s gone and Cas is making himself scarce, looking for some kind of solution, and Jack’s odd and quiet in his room, and the scorch-marks on the concrete floors have long been cleaned up, and Dean--

Dean remembers him. Dean watches him, his eyes pinned to Sam the second they’re in the same room. Dean has his own bed but he doesn’t like it, finds it strange. Too warm, too soft. “Sammy,” Dean says, miserable when Sam leaves him there, but Sam can’t take advantage and he doesn’t know what to do, with this brother who knows him and nothing else.

It wasn’t like this, before. The knowing drained out of Dean slow, little trickles. Words, processes. Forgetting a lamp, surprised by a cartoon. Forgetting his animosities and his histories and his training until he was just--blank. Sweet. Brutal, because he was forgetting himself and Sam at the same time, and even if Sam managed to save himself at the last second with Dean knowing what brother meant--what it meant to them both--it was torture to see it slip away, piece by piece.

It’s gone entirely, now. Sam sits with Dean in the library and puts the tape recorder on, takes notes. “What do you remember?” he asks, putting his miseries aside, and Dean says, “You,” sad, like that’s all that counts. Sam closes his eyes and Dean’s hand closes around his wrist, holding on. His hand is just as calloused as it always was even without the memory that proves the callouses were earned.

“Tell me anyway,” Sam says, trying to smile, and Dean licks his lips, seems like he’s really trying to think.

“We’re from--Kansas,” he says, uncertain, and Sam nods, encouraging. “We--we grew up together.”

“Yeah, we did,” Sam says. He lets Dean keep his wrist. The touch of his skin is--the same. Somehow feels the same. “You remember where?”

Flicker of worry, across Dean’s face. “There was a car,” he says, uncertain still even though Sam brought him to the Impala on the second day when he realized what was happening, and Sam folds over the table, wants to cry.

“Sammy,” Dean says, tender, and touches his hair. He cards through it soft, his hands gentle and knowing, and Sam shudders. He misses his brother so badly he could just crumple into the floor. Could sell his soul. Could just die, miserable here, and hope that when--if--he got to heaven, his real brother would be there, waiting, would say to him crap, dude, took you long enough, and Sam could grab him in tight and hold him and it would mean everything it was supposed to mean, when Dean’s nose brushed his neck, when his hand cupped the back of Dean’s skull.

“I remember you,” Dean says, and Sam pushes away--dinner to take care of, and watching Dean eat and barely picking at his own meal, and the bunker empty, empty, empty. Everything Sam had worked for disappeared, and his one stalwart, his one anchor--

Midnight and his door shoves open, startles him where he’s laying on his back, staring up into nothing. Dean, backlit--but the light white, not red--and Sam reins in his gasp and sits up and says, “What’s the matter?” and Dean comes in and goes to his knees in front of Sam’s feet and says, “Sammy, I remember you.”

He’s staring up, earnest. His eyes clear, green as green even in the dark in here, his focus entirely and utterly on Sam. “I know you do,” Sam says, sore, but Dean grips his arms, shakes his head.

“You don’t,” he says, urgent as a little kid, and it twists in Sam’s belly, makes him look away, but Dean holds him tighter, doesn’t let him get away--says--

“You were so smart, and you were so fuckin’ stubborn--my little brother but I wasn’t in charge of dick, because you’d just get your way no matter what, even if it came a way I didn’t expect it. You and me didn’t get along all the time but we had some stuff--movies we watched, and music we both listened to--and you can’t sing for shit but when you’re drunk you give it a try, and you sound awful but it just makes me happy every time I think about it because it’s when you were happy and I know that’s about the best thing that can happen to me. When you’re happy. I know I--fuck up a lot, and I say crap I shouldn’t say, and I don’t know what it’s about but I remember the times you started to look--shit, like you do now, and it feels like crap but I don’t know how to make it right. Sammy, I don’t know how to make it right.”

Sam feels like crying. Dean’s hand grips his shoulder, touches his chest. “Sam, I remember you,” he says, thick and true, and Sam reaches out and gets a hand on the back of his skull, his fingers sinking into the thick soft buzz-short hair, the warmth that feels right even if nothing else does. “Sam.”

“What else do you remember?” Sam says, aching, and Dean says, “I remember when you came back, but I don’t know from where, and it was like--it was like the friggin’ continents were all upside down and then got turned right side up, and you were pissed as hell at me and I figured probably I deserved it but I didn’t care, it didn’t matter because Sam was here, and I know--Sam, I know I’m not right, I know things might be bad, and I’m gonna try to get right because I know I’m supposed to be your partner or whatever, but I--man, I’m going nuts, because I’m here, and you’re not.”

His hand hurts, gripping so hard on Sam’s shoulder. Sam breathes. “I’m here, Dean,” he says, and Dean says, touching his jaw, sad and clear, “You’re not, you’re not,” and he leans up and kisses Sam then, soft and on-target in the near-dark. His mouth, and his smell--Sam cups him closer, grips his t-shirt and hauls him up, closer, his body warm and familiar and right up against Sam’s, his hands rough and firm, his breathing the thing Sam wants to sync his body to, every morning. Dean kisses him short and quick and soft, pulls back and breathes and does it again, and again, and then shoves at Sam’s shoulders and makes him fall back to the bed and then crawls up, covers Sam’s body, cups Sam’s face in his hands, kisses him melting and sure and with his lip catching chapped against Sam’s lip, and Sam holds him so tight he’s sure it hurts and then pushes him back, a handful of inches to breathe, to think.

Dean looks at him, brow furrowed, close. The light from the hall rims his ear in clear golden light. “The only thing that matters is you, Sammy,” he says, quiet.

Sam feels like his body’s collapsing, in some essential way. Infrastructure, demolished, a cold and dusty ruin left behind. He runs his finger along the back of Dean’s ear, traces the warmth down to the steady, certain beat of Dean’s heart. “Us,” Sam says--corrects--gives up, and Dean slides his hand into Sam’s hair, smiles, and it’s not right, and it’s not the same. Sam closes his eyes and draws Dean in anyway. He’s not here, but he can fake it, for the brother he’s lost--the bloody history that made him Sam’s--for the hope that maybe one day he’ll be here again, pained and grim and inextricable from the blood and meat that’s made up Sam’s life. Dean pulls back after a while, sweet and hopeful. Unfamiliar. Sam smiles at him, and kisses Dean dishonest.

#fffb #nigeltde-fic #wincest #spn fic #my writing